The Leap Home
by Diligens
Summary: After 10 years of Leaping Sam is the closest to home that he has ever been, only about an hour in the past. But he has Leaped into perhaps the most compromising situation imaginable. Can Al and Donna fix Ziggy in time to finally bring Sam home?
1. Prologue

Author's Note: I started writing this novelette several years ago at the request of my mother who felt the TV series could have ended better. I must confess that Quantum Leap is not a series that I'm very familiar with, though I do remember watching it back when it was on. I owe countless thanks to Julie Barrett for her invaluable book "Quantum Leap A to Z", published by Boulevard Books, which really does have everything from Al to Ziggy. All of my terms and the spellings for the various names come from this book which also has a brief synopsis of every episode filmed. Mark Davalos is the creation of L Elizabeth Storm (_Pulitzer_), or at least that's what my old notes said. I don't know how true to the book my Mark has remained through all the revisions this story has suffered through.

I stole these characters, (except for: Mindy, the O'Malley family, Cynthia Marley, Ms. Garcia, Aunt Elizabeth and her dog, Ms. Sanchez, Fr. Jim, Mr. Jackson, Charlie, and Jake which are mine) and have immensely enjoyed playing with them. I suspect I broke a few, for which I am heartily sorry – I think. At any rate, if the proper owners wish to sue me please note the old adage about blood and turnips.

A thousand thank you's to Jedi Ani Unduli who took the time to beta my first 6 chapters. Any mistakes are entirely my own; also many thanks to my brother who helped me with several scenes with troublesome Mindy and helped me develop the O'Malley theory.

* * *

The Leap Home

_a FanFiction by_

_Diligens_

**Prologue**

He was tired, he remembered all those times he pulled all nighters and double shifts as an intern where only sheer will power kept his eyes open. That was nothing to this. He tried to open his eyes.

"Turn him on his side," someone said. Nausea gripped him. The world lurched sickeningly and he quickly shut his eyes as waves of pain threatened to drown him. The voice spoke again but somehow it seemed to be receding, muffled by the roaring in his ears. He remembered Leaping. Something had gone wrong though. He remembered seeing the room, a standard private hospital room, and the indescribable sick feeling starting in his head, then nothing. Now the room had that air that hospitals take on when some crises has past but no one knows yet if the patient is truly stable.

He was so tired. Sleep beckoned him with promises of escape from the pain, a safe retreat from a world suddenly unsafe. It was so tempting. He could always find out what happened later. The world slipped away, the noise and the pain receding as the darkness claimed him.

#

It had been harrying there for awhile. The Leap had triggered some kind of seizure, which neither surprised nor frightened the Visitor. His behavior as well as the EEG readings told Verbena that it probably wasn't his first seizure. He had epilepsy. It wasn't the seizure that had the Admiral pacing like a caged tiger just outside the Waiting Room door though.

"How is he?" Al asked around his cigar, never once breaking stride.

"Resting; whatever they did to Sam seems to be affecting him too."

"What?" Al snapped finally coming to face the Project psychiatrist. "The medicine they gave Sam did what?" Al could be an imposing figure when he put his mind to it but Verbena wasn't easily intimidated.

"The medicine they gave Sam stopped the Visitor's seizure as well." She watched Al carefully.

"Has anything like that ever happen before?"

"No."

Al snorted and continued pacing, completely ignoring the woman before him. This Leap was already highly unusual. Verbena waited for the Admiral to stop pacing again.

Finally she got tired of waiting, "Is it true what Ziggy said?" She said trying to draw him out, "Did Sam Leap into our year?"

Al finally stopped pacing and looked Verbena right in the eye. "October 13, 2005. 12 p.m."

Less than 3 hours in the past.

"Eastern Standard Time."

So close. Sam had never been anywhere near this close before. It was once believed to be impossible. She sat down and Al continued pacing.

"Has anyone told Donna?" She asked after several moments.

"Not yet." There was something else bothering Al. She waited knowing that silence often got better results than questions.

"They know." Al said finally, "The kid had already been hooked up to the EEG machine for some time before Sam Leaped. The whole thing was recorded and they know it's not just a seizure and that the brain waves they're recording now are completely different from the kid's. They might never put two and two together, however, if anyone who's familiar with Sam's early research sees those readings our security will be compromised."

"Oh boy!" Verbena breathed.


	2. Chapter 1

**Thursday, October 13, 2005**

Senator Weitzman hung up the phone and stared out the window in shock. Of all the things he expected from Project Quantum Leap this was not one of them. Sam was now so close to the present that Ziggy couldn't even begin to predict what he was there to change. In fact Sam was so close as to practically **be**in the present moment, and he couldn't have Leaped into a more difficult or compromising predicament. The situation was unbelievable. Suddenly an idea came to the Senator and he picked up the phone.

#

Sam opened his eyes slowly, remembering how painful the last attempt had been. The room was dark, a shade had been drawn over the one window blocking out the pale sunlight. Slowly his eyes adjusted and he could see that he was in a hospital bed with all the railings up. There appeared to be some kind of padding on the railings.

"You're still in the hospital Sam." Al offered. "Don't speak," he added quickly, "You're being observed. They have a video camera right there and an audio pick up right over your head." He gestured with his cigar towards the ceiling above him. "Ziggy's still working on why you're here, but right now you need to rest." Al pushed a few buttons on the hand link nervously before continuing. "You've Leaped into a Michael O'Malley, a 17 year old kid who was diagnosed with epilepsy after a head injury some six months ago. Car accident," Al said looking up. "The kid had gone to a party with some of his friends after a football game. When are kids going to learn not to drink and drive?" Sam watched Al as he gestured angrily with his cigar. "Michael was one of the lucky ones." Al continued, quickly calming down. "He started having seizures shortly after that, poor kid." Sam never thought that having seizures was 'lucky'. "The doctors have been observing him for a few days before you Leaped in - that's what the camera and stuff is for." There was something that Al wasn't telling him. Sam closed his eyes resisting the urge to speak. He had only a vague notion of what was involved in 'observing' someone with epilepsy. He felt his head which was wrapped in gauze. "Don't touch that Sam!" Al warned, "You're hooked up to a machine. That gauze is protecting the wires."

"It itches." Sam kept his voice low. It did itch.

"Get some rest Sam." Al's voice was gentle. "I'll be back when Ziggy finds anything." Sam could hear the Door open, but before Al could step through it the evening shift nurse came in, and Al caught his breath. She turned on a light by the door and in the dim light Sam couldn't see many of her features, yet Al seemed to recognize her. "Beth?"

"Beth?" Sam echoed, his swiss-cheesed memory drawing blanks.

"Yes?" the woman asked surprised.

Sam tried to turn his head to see Al better. The nurse stepped up to the bedside to take Sam's vitals and checked the tube in his arm. "It was a good thing we had this." She said, "You didn't warn us that the seizure was coming.

"Seizure?" Sam echoed again still trying to get a better look at his friend's face. "Did I have a seizure?" The question was directed at Al who seemed frozen.

"Don't you remember?" Nurse Beth asked. Al didn't say anything.

"I'm not sure." Sam answered at last.

Beth made a note in the chart. "You had a seizure shortly after 12 this afternoon." She read something else in the chart and dug into her pocket for a flash light. "Look up please." She checked his eyes. "Any pain?"

"Some." Sam answered, still looking for Al. "My head itches." He added almost like an afterthought, finally giving up on getting Al to cooperate.

"I'll have someone check that." She said giving him a pill and some water to wash it down before leaving.

Al looked like he would faint.

"You ok Al?" Sam whispered. "Al!"

"Hunh? I'll be fine Sam. Don't worry. Get some rest." Al closed the Door behind him.

#

Al took a deep breath then another one. He had never thought that he would have seen Beth again. He couldn't stall too long though as they were waiting for him.

"Any changes?" he asked Ziggy. Sam had changed so many things in his Leaps that Al had developed the habit of asking before leaving the chamber. Most of the time the changes didn't affect the project directly, but some did.

"Dr. Beckett is so close to the present moment that I have no data to analyze." The computer sounded frustrated. "However, there is a 44% probability that Dr. Sam Beckett's current Leap will convince the committee to fund Dr. Elesee's plan."

"Only 44 percent!" The committee already was reviewing the EEG readings taken prior to and during Sam's recent Leap from both the hospital and the project. "What more do they need?"

"There is a 56% probability that the committee will require additional information."

Sometimes Ziggy was just plain irritating. "What kind of additional information?" Al was careful not to snarl.

"Unknown. They have asked to interview Dr. Beckett and Michael O'Malley."

Al examined his cigar and thought about that. Interviewing Michael would be no problem so long as Verbena handled the actual questions. That was what they usually did anyway. But Sam was tethered to an EEG machine in a hospital not too far from the Capitol about an hour in the past. If the committee wanted to interview Sam he could tag along with. For the first time in 10 years he'd actually be able to touch his friend, see him instead of a hologram. The thought nearly brought tears to his eyes. Al cleared his throat. "Leaping swiss-cheeses Sam's brain and then there's the rules that keep him in the dark. He won't be able to answer very many questions; also I haven't told him when he is." Leaping did interesting things to his English. Al sighed, stuck his cigar in his pocket and opened the Imaging Chamber door.

"Admiral," Ziggy cautioned, "Dr. Elesee is waiting for you in your office."

"Thanks." Was there a hint of sarcasm in his voice? "I'll be right up."

#

Dr. Donna Elesee couldn't make up her mind to get up and pace the office again or to give up waiting for Al to come to her and lay in wait for him outside the Imaging Chamber. She grimaced at the thought of being that close to the Waiting Room.

"The Admiral is on his way." Ziggy informed her.

"Thanks. Have the odds improved?" Ziggy knew what she was talking about.

"No."

Was the tone apologetic? Donna decided to pace. On her fifth circuit she nearly walked right into Al. Graceful Elesee, very graceful. "I'm sorry Admiral." Her hands fluttered nervously and she hugged herself, pinning them to her sides. For his part Al just looked at his coffee, which miraculously hadn't spilled. He set it down on his desk quickly before anything else could happen to it.

"That's alright Donna. We are all a little more stressed than usual." He seemed lost in thought for a moment. "What can I do to help you?"

Donna told him everything. It was her job, more than anyone else, to find a way to bring Sam home. Once she found out about this latest Leap she had wondered if the sole purpose for Whomever was in control to bring Sam so close to the present was so that they could bring Sam home.

"Remember when Sam Leaped into Havenwell and we used shock therapy to 'boost the signal' as it were so Sam could Leap out?"

"Yeah, thanks to a bolt of lightning I ended up Leaping too." Al looked like he had bitten something sour and pulled his cigar out of his pocket. "Mind?" he asked.

Yes, thought Donna. "No." she said. "If we find a way to amplify his brain waves," she continued, "without the additional electrical charge of shock therapy it ought to boost his signal and we should be able to use the retrieval program again." Ought. Should. Two different ways of saying 'maybe'. Al lit his cigar and thought for a few moments. Donna fought the impulse to pace.

"What does Ziggy say?" He spoke at last.

"She was wrong all those times before," Donna butt in quickly before the computer could say anything. "The first time she gave odds they were above 90%."

"What does she say now." he insisted.

"There is only 10% chance it will succeed."

Al took the cigar out of his mouth and examined it thoughtfully for a moment. "What do you need to increase your odds?"

Donna smiled and pulled a disk out of her pocket. "This is an amendment to my current proposal. With Sam being so close we won't need to use as much power and there will be less interference."

"So why are the odds so low?" Al asked.

"There is a 90% probability that Dr. Beckett will Leap into another time." Ziggy spoke up finally, "I am a time machine after all."

"Is that why you failed all those other times?" Al's voice was harsh but Ziggy seemed impervious.

"No. Dr. Beckett Leaped before my programming could be completed. The retrieval program had not been tested."

"But when Sam came back he fixed it. He was able to use it to bring me back. Why won't it work now?"

How many times had Donna asked herself that question? She gave Al the only answer she had left. "You wanted to come home Al. Sam has always wanted to Leap. You live in the present moment; Sam has always had his head in the past." Al looked absolutely stunned. She gave him a sad smile. "Sam wanted to repair my relationship with my father, wanted Tom to come home, wanted Katie to not to stay with an abusive husband, wanted his own father to live longer. Oh, he says he isn't doing this to change his own past. In fact in the beginning he thought he would only be observing. But once he found out he could change the past he threw himself into it with abandon."

"That's not right Donna," Al looked like he would choke; the cigar was long forgotten now. "He keeps thinking that his next Leap will bring him home." Al spoke with conviction. Donna looked away briefly then brought her head up, eyes shining with tears she wouldn't let fall.

"When you first arrive, does he ask 'am I home', or 'what does Ziggy say I have to change'?"

"Donna," Al looked miserable. "I'm not there when Sam first arrives, by the time I get there it's pretty obvious that he isn't home. I have no idea what his first reaction is, he doesn't tell me and I don't ask. He accepts it, just like he accepts his swiss cheese memory, because he has no choice. He was never one to complain about things beyond his control but I know he wants to come home. He misses his family, even when he can't remember who they are. He wants to come home Donna. He really does."

Donna burst into tears.

#

Al closed his eyes and breathed deeply in the cold night air. Being there for Donna was hard especially after seeing Beth again, but that was the first time she cried on his shoulder. Usually when the strain got to her she and Verbena would go somewhere for lunch. Al watched the last of the color fade from the western horizon. Donna had been right about him though. He did live in the present moment. That's how he survived 'Nam, that's how he survived the news that Beth had left him. By the time Beth had found out he was still alive she had remarried and had kids. He didn't contest the divorce or annulment. She had always wanted kids. Hell, when he told her that he had reenlisted she nearly divorced him for that reason. He always believed that kids and Navy life didn't mix. Al sighed.

Donna was wrong about Sam though. Sam liked helping people; he loved improving other people's lives. That made Leaping bearable. There was an aspect to it that was even enjoyable. But Sam hated pretending to be someone else. Al smiled remembering the fuss Sam made whenever he Leaped into a woman, not the mention the time he Leaped into a chimp.

Al examined what was left of his cigar. This Leap was so different. It wasn't just that Sam was so close. He never expected to see Beth again. It was a shock the first time when Sam had Leaped into that cop back in '69 - right at the time and place Beth had met that lawyer. He never did ask Ziggy to give him the odds on that scenario. He knew deep down in his gut that they weren't good. It seemed at first that God, or Fate, or Whatever was just being cruel, but it was childish to throw temper tantrums and cry that life was unfair. True, he had said his goodbyes to Beth before Sam Leaped, but he never stopped loving her.

The stars winked at him like a thousand eyes. It was amazing how cold the desert could get at night.


	3. Chapter 2

**Friday, October 14, 2005**

Sam was waiting for him the next morning. "Al, I remember who Beth is!" He could barely contain his excitement. He turned the TV up to cover the sound of his voice. "She's your first wife and you wanted me to prevent her..."

"Did you talk to her?" Al interrupted, worried.

"No. I didn't get a chance to. Al what are you worried about? Does Ziggy know why I'm here?"

Al winced. Ziggy spent half the night complaining about the lack of data before finally agreeing that there was a growing probability that Sam was there so that the committee could interview him. She was still adamant that Donna's new plan wouldn't work. Donna had submitted it to the committee anyway.

"You ok Al?" Now Sam looked worried.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Tina and I were up late last night..."

"Al! I'm not interested." Sam snapped impatiently.

"...working on Ziggy." Al finished looking hurt.

"Sorry." Sam shifted in his bed. "I thought you were going to tell another of those stories." Al looked away. "It's just sometimes I get the impression you use those stories to distract me from finding out about things I'm not supposed to know."

"Not always," Al defended himself, still not looking at Sam. "Sometimes I just want to talk and that's a safe subject." Al missed the days when he didn't need to be so careful.

"What does Ziggy say?" Sam prepared himself for bad news. Al hadn't looked him in the eye once that morning.

"I can't tell you Sam." Al felt lost and examined the room hoping Sam wouldn't ask too many questions.

"Al. What's wrong?"

How could he answer that question without breaking the rules?

"Is it Beth?"

"No." Al pushed a few buttons on the hand link, hoping Sam would take a hint.

He didn't, "If it's not Beth then what is it? You know there's precious little I can do tethered to this bed. When does Ziggy say I get out?"

"We don't know." Al waited, because of the rules Sam had to figure much of this out on his own but it felt cruel.

"Can't Ziggy hack into the hospital computers and find out?"

How could he answer that question? Ziggy had yet to meet a computer she couldn't wrap around her little finger, but it's difficult to predict the future even for Ziggy. Al finally put the hand link in his pocket and looked Sam in the eye. It was time to bite the bullet.

"Sam, I don't want to raise your hopes too much. There's a lot I can't tell you." Al paused to gauge his reaction. "There's a good chance you Leaped here in order to talk to some people." He wasn't allowed to say who or about what. "It's important to answer their questions truthfully, just as Sam Beckett would, not Michael O'Malley." He almost said too much. Al pulled the hand link out of his pocket again hoping to distract Sam from his slip. Sam watched him closely and Al got the feeling that he wasn't buying it.

"Ok Al." Sam let him off the hook. Al fought the temptation to breathe a sigh of relief.

Senator Weitzman had called late in the previous evening. The interview of Michael O'Malley had gone without a hitch. One of the committee members had flown out from D.C. with a list of questions for Verbena to ask while they watched from the observation room. As expected Al didn't have any problems with that aspect of the plan. He did have problems with the committee interviewing Sam directly. Finally Weitzman saw it his way. That committeewoman was now in the Imaging Chamber with Al. The changes Tina made to Ziggy's program last night would allow her to hear what Sam was saying. They had done something like it before when Sam had to testify for a girl who had been raped, only this time Sam wouldn't be able to see or hear whoever was with Al.

Weitzman himself was going to visit Sam in the hospital to ask the questions. In a way it wouldn't matter what questions were asked so long as Weitzman's experience matched the other committeewoman's.

"You have a guest." The nurse said as she opened the door. Al noted with relief that it wasn't Beth. The senator entered looking for all the world like an Abraham Lincoln look-alike. A resemblance he built a career capitalizing on. He turned to the nurse and asked that the recording equipment be turned off while he was there. After the camera and mic had been shut off the nurse left and closed the door behind her.

"Hello Michael," the senator began. "I hope I'm not disrupting anything." The senator looked around the room as if he expected to find Al hiding behind the furniture.

"Boo!" Al taunted when the senator's gaze past him. He couldn't resist. Sam laughed.

"What's so funny?" The senator demanded.

"Oh..." Sam scrambled to find a plausible lie.

"Answer the question truthfully Sam." Al warned. He tried to emphasize the seriousness of the matter with a look.

"Ah..." Sam stuttered, not at all sure what to say. "I was laughing at a friend." He finished lamely and shot Al a puzzled look which Al ignored.

"What's your friend's name?"

"Al." Sam answered simply, warily.

"Al what?"

"Calavicci."

"How would you describe Al?"

"What do you mean?"

The senator paused, rethinking the question. "What was he wearing the last time you saw him?"

"Black shirt and slacks, red vest and silver tie." He didn't mention the 3-D patterns in his vest, nor the colored threads that ran through the matching shirt and slacks - oh well.

"What does your friend do on his time off?" Al shot the senator a warning look - that question was getting too close.

"He chases girls." That wasn't always true, but Sam couldn't be expected to remember that. In fact it had been a long time since he had the opportunity.

"When was the last time you saw Al?" The senator continued oblivious to dirty looks from invisible holograms.

"Today."

"And do you remember when you first met him?"

There was a long pause. Sam looked like he was lost in memories. Al shuffled his feet but carefully didn't say anything. "Star Bright." he answered finally. "He was taking a hammer to a coke machine, I think." His face screwed up with the effort of remembering. "It had swallowed his dime." Al was impressed. He still had that hammer too.

"What else do you remember about Al?"

There was another long pause. Sam opened his mouth then shut it again. "He's the kind of guy you can rely on when times get tough. He'd never abandon anyone in need. He's always been there for me." Sam looked right at Al. "I thank God for him."

"Aw, gee Sam." Al was touched.

The senator seemed satisfied; he looked at his watch and then extended his hand. "I have to go now but I'll call you later." Sam took the offered hand and thanked him.

After the senator left Al stuck his head through the door and saw him ask one of the nurses if Michael had any guests in the past 24 hours. Al pulled his head back in and punched a few buttons on the hand link. Ziggy's estimates were going up. Looked like Donna would get her funding, but the odds regarding the retrieval program didn't change.

"Al." Sam called; he looked like he had been trying to get his attention for awhile.

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch that."

"I said that guy looks familiar, have I seen him before?"

Weitzman had taken a tour of the project shortly after work on Ziggy had begun, but to Al's knowledge that was the only time the two had met.

"Not really, must be because he looks like Abe Lincoln. I have to get back Sam, staff meeting." It wasn't exactly a lie. "As soon as I have any news I'll be back."

"Ok." Sam said.

#

Donna wasn't happy. No matter what scenario they ran Ziggy's numbers were dismal. She had already used every variable she could think of. Tina popped a rather large, pink bubble in frustration. "We've tried, like, everything!" Donna leaned back in her chair and sighed. It felt like a losing battle. Going over their figures again hadn't helped. Something just out of reach taunted them. They were officially stymied. Donna looked around the table. Verbena had stopped by just to see how things were going (how well Donna was holding out she meant), Gooshie was still out monitoring things while the Admiral was with Sam. Tina was drooping with exhaustion and Donna was sure she didn't look any better. She looked at the time. They had been up all night and it was now well into the morning.

"Perhaps we should take a break, grab something to eat and catch up on our sleep." Perhaps the problem would look better after a nap.

Verbena waited for everyone to leave before speaking up. "Would you like some tea?" It wasn't the question Donna had been expecting. "I have chamomile - or mint if you prefer that."

"Mint." Donna decided at last, still going through the penciled notes in one of the many diagrams and other paperwork left on the conference table. She could hear Verbena at the side table pulling mugs off the wall hooks and pouring the hot water. The mug she set in front of her steamed pleasantly and smelled wonderful. "No knock-out drops?" Donna asked with a lopsided grin.

Verbena laughed. "No, my supply is fresh out." Her brilliant white smile lit up the whole room.

Donna pushed aside the paper work and examined her friend over her steaming mug. "Go ahead," she said finally. "You want to ask anyway."

Verbena sighed. "Do I really have to say it?" She was wearing her most sincere 'I'm only being a concerned friend' look.

"No." Donna examined her tea wondering, not for the first time, if there really was anything to reading tea leaves. "I am pushing myself too hard, but I don't believe that some random act of chance is going to bring my husband home. Monkeys have as good a chance of pounding out Shakespeare - even with Sam's help." She thought about the space chimp. Somehow she managed to miss that one while it was happening. Al had told her about it afterwards. Verbena grimaced. She hadn't missed it.

"Have you been having problems sleeping?"

Donna watched the steam curl past her fingers as she pulled the teabag first one way then another. The water turned a dark green before she answered. "Yes." When was the last time she actually slept? Donna couldn't remember. "How'd it go?" She changed the subject so that Verbena wouldn't ask about it.

"Pretty much like a standard interview. Michael doesn't remember the Leap or else thinks its part of the seizure. He believes that he's still in the hospital, though he realizes he's not in the same room. He hasn't really asked very many questions so far but then he's only just beginning to perk up from the seizure. He mentioned a little sister that he just adores and a girlfriend he broke up with recently because she started to 'creep him out'."

"Sounds like something we should have Ziggy look into." Donna said automatically, then realizing the problems Ziggy had researching this Leap she apologized, "I had forgotten that he really isn't in the past anymore." She covered her face in her hands.

Al had stopped in on his way to his office, coffee mug in hand. "That's a very good idea Donna. I'll have Ziggy look into that. There might be records of past behavior that will help us predict what she might do. We'll need your help interpreting the data Verbena." Al poured himself a cup then stopped and looked at the two women. "It might be nothing but Sam might be getting his memories back. He remembered Weitzman at any rate, and he remembered the day he met me." Al looked at the papers on the table before setting the mug down on an empty spot. "He even remembered Beth and the time he Leaped into Jake Rawlings," Verbena would remember the name even if she forgot the other details of each visitor. "The San Diego detective back in '69." He said for Donna's benefit. Both women looked at him. Sam's memory was unpredictable but it was unusual for him to remember many details from his past Leaps.

"He's never had this much time with nothing to do before," Verbena pointed out at last. "Sam has nothing to occupy his attention but a few books Michael brought and the TV. He's bound to spend much of his time thinking."

"Will he remember me?" Donna asked holding herself again as she had done in Al's office.

"There's no way to tell." Al said gently. Verbena reached out and put her arm around Donna's shoulders. Al sipped his coffee and thought a moment. "I could distract him," he said slowly, "it's a long shot but it might work." Al gathered his mug and walked out the door. "Keep you informed." He shot back as he headed for the Imaging Chamber.

#

Sam sat back in his bed. Al had just left after giving the news that Ziggy believed that there was a 60% probability that he was here to talk to Beth. There had been a young woman named Mindy, Michael's ex-girlfriend, they were trying to get information on too (just so Sam wouldn't think that this was a repeat of San Diego when Al wouldn't consider any other possibility but preserving his marriage to Beth). What was he supposed to talk to Beth about? "I don't know Sam. You'll think of something." Al had said.

Sam sighed. It would be hours before Beth came on duty. He looked around the room again. He could only see part of three walls. There was a closet on his left with two chairs pushed in front of it, between it and his bed was a three drawer bed stand on wheels. In a corner on the same side was a window giving him a good view of the roof and the tips of a few treetops, but not much else. Near that a white board with the date "October 14" but no year, it also had his room number and a phone number which he assumed was for his room phone. Right next to the white board was a bulletin board with various things tacked onto it that were too far away for Sam to read. Directly across from the foot of the bed there was the hand washing station and over that the TV, currently off. He'd watched the news that morning, none of it familiar to him. The TV disturbed him for some reason. Next to the hand washing station was his own private bathroom. To the right was a door. He figured his room was close to the nurses' station because he caught a glimpse of a desk whenever someone entered. The rest of the room was obscured by a curtain or behind his head. Every now and then a tech would come in and look at something behind the curtain. The last time someone came in they mentioned that the doctor would be seeing him after lunch. Al said he'd be back for that.

Sam thought about Al's behavior. He seemed to be under more stress than usual and as usual wouldn't tell him anything about it. Sam sighed and looked at the books on the stand. Michael had a taste for classics: Shakespeare, Chaucer, and Hawthorne. There was a dog eared Western on the top of the stack and Sam picked that up first. There was a note written on the first page: "Remember when Dad used to read this to us? Don't climb the walls too quickly. Your loving sister, Sally." The book was yellow with age and had the look books get when they've been read many times. Sam started reading.

Several hours later he set the book aside and rubbed his eyes. The book was putting him to sleep. It wasn't the typical cowboy wearing white hat catches cowboy wearing black hat in the act resulting in a shootout on Main Street where Black Hat bites the dust and White Hat rides off into the sunset, but it wasn't too far removed from it and he had already been bored half out of his mind when he started reading. Sam looked at the time then pulled out the menu card the nurse had given him that morning and ordered lunch. Still bored Sam started flipping through channels trying to figure out approximately what year it was by what shows were on. He didn't recognize anything and much of it he found shocking. Most of the Leaps he remembered were to the 50's and 60's. He remembered watching Leave it to Beaver with Cameron's father, he also remembered betting with someone that President Nixon would fall down the stairs while getting off Air Force One. When was that? He remembered watching children's shows with Teresa who was young enough to see that he wasn't her mother no matter how hard her older sister tried to convince her otherwise. Al had finally told her that they were angels. Sam smiled thinking about Teresa and how attached she had become to Al. He was pulled from his reverie by the sound of the Door opening by the bed and Al stepping through, cigar in hand.

"Nice to see you smiling Sam." Al greeted him.

"I was thinking of Teresa and your promise to see her again. Were you able to look her up?"

Al looked confused.

"Teresa Bruckner, the little girl who thought you were an angel." Sam reminded him.

"Yeah," Al answered quickly, "I remember her, but she didn't remember me. She's in school now." Al looked thoughtful.

"I'm sorry Al; I know how fond you were of her."

Al flashed him his 'hay, let's not dwell on it' smile. "Have you seen the doc yet?" Al seemed much more relaxed than he had been that morning, but Sam couldn't shake the feeling that there was something wrong.

"Not yet." Sam shot a quick look at the door. The hall light shone brightly underneath it. No one was standing on the other side. "Al, you haven't told me when it is yet."

Al looked at him innocently. "Sure I have Sam, it's right there on the white board, October 14th." Al could have sprouted a halo.

"Al." Sam began looking slightly miserable. "I remember my presidents from George Washington to Bill Clinton; I don't remember George W. Bush. Al, I've never wanted to change anything big but somehow I've changed the President of the United States!"

Al looked like he couldn't make up his mind to laugh or cry. "You didn't change the election Sam. You were just too preoccupied with the Project to pay it much mind."

"But Al! I don't remember him! What American forgets the President of the United States?"

"Mad scientists do it all the time." Al joked weakly. "Come on Sam! That memory just fell through one of those swiss-cheesed holes. By the time he was elected you were so deep into the project you barely had time to notice the weather let alone sit and watch politicians on TV!" Al was doing his very best to be reassuring but Sam wasn't reassured.

"I've never been this close to the future before have I? That's why Ziggy's having so many problems finding out what I'm here to change, that's why I don't recognize the President!" Sam looked Al right in the eye, looking for confirmation in his friend's face. Al put down his cigar and was quiet for a long moment.

"I figured it was only a matter of time before you found out on your own. But Sam, I can't tell you what's going on because of the rules!"

"I thought you believed that rules were meant to be broken." Sam was more frustrated than hurt by his friend's stubborn refusal to help.

"Well, some rules exist for a reason. And these rules have very good reasons." Al picked up his cigar again. "I'm going to go check on that doctor and maybe find out when Beth will be back on duty. Take it easy Sam. Don't let what you see on TV bother you. It's just been awhile since you've had time to think. Don't stress yourself. Take all things in stride." and with that he walked through the door leading to the nurses' station and vanished.

Sam sighed and turned off the TV. He was letting things get to him and he never had so much time to just think before. Maybe he was over reacting but why did a little thing like not knowing what year it was bother him so much? And why wouldn't Al tell him?

#

Al needed a break. After finding out that Beth wouldn't be at the hospital until early in the evening and that Weitzman had detained the doctor, Al left the Imaging Chamber in a rush. "Where's that gal from the committee?" He demanded.

Gooshie blinked in surprise. "Who?" He looked very like an owl.

"The woman who was here earlier this morning." Al was feeling snappish and had to check himself. He rubbed his face tiredly trying to remember the last time he had any sleep. "I'm sorry Gooshie, I don't remember her name. She barely said five words to anyone."

"Oh! Her. Cafeteria I think." Gooshie took the hand link and went back to work. Al dashed up to the cafeteria. The silent observer was there with her Marine escort eating lunch and listening to the radio. Al shut it off and leaned across the table.

"What is Weitzman doing talking to Michael O'Malley's doctors?" He demanded.

"I don't know what you're talking about." She didn't look at Al but kept her attention on the plate in front of her.

"An hour ago Weitzman was on the phone to Michael's doctor. I thought we agreed not to interfere with Michael's care so what is Weitzman doing talking to his doctor!"

"We are not interfering with Michael's care. Michael is in your Waiting Room. Sam will be taken to a research facility where we can better examine this phenomenon."

"No! You have no right to interfere with Sam's Leaps!"

"Admiral, this is not interference and I would be careful with that temper if I were you."

#

Al paced. He had barely made it back to Sam's side before they came for him. Weitzman was the one in for the surprise though, Michael's dad had been there and he had refused to allow any transfer. Michael was still a minor after all, and he, Dr. O'Malley, was the one responsible for his son's care - not Mrs. O'Malley! Dr. O'Malley had stopped the henchmen in the hall right outside Sam's door. He obviously suspected his estranged wife was responsible, Al wondered if that suspicion would last.

After the henchmen were escorted out of the building Dr. O'Malley came to sit next to Sam's bed and looked through Michael's stack of books. "Glad to see that you still read the classics Mikey. Has your sister been by?"

"Yesterday morning." Al answered quickly. "That's when she dropped that book off. She promised she'd be back tonight."

"Yes." Sam answered simply.

"Good. Glad your mother is letting her visit." he saw the Western then and picked it up. "Good heavens! It's been ages since I've seen this!"

Al drew thoughtfully on his cigar while watching Sam's face carefully. It was beginning to look like Michael came from a broken family, possibly even divorced. Those Leaps were always hardest on Sam. Sam, aware of the Observer's scrutiny, closed his eyes and leaned back in the bed.

"So how are you Mikey?" The father came back from his trip down memory lane to notice his 'son's' strained look.

"Bored out of my mind." Sam was vehement.

Dr. O'Malley laughed, "After five days I'd be stressed out too." He sobered up a bit before continuing, "The doctors talked to me before I came in. They found some anomalous readings and they want to keep you for further observation.

Sam looked ready to jump up and start pacing, wires or no wires. "How long?" He asked instead.

"Couple more days. But you'll be home by Monday." He added quickly. Sam shot a quick look at Al.

"It's Friday." Al answered the unspoken question around his cigar.

"Dad, can't I go home for the weekend? Can't they get their readings next week? I'd be willing to stay this evening but can't I just go home?"

Dr. O'Malley paused a moment to grapple with his emotions.

"It's not your fault." Sam said on a hunch. "It's not your fault that I'm not well."

Dr. O'Malley looked at him with gratitude. "That's my wise boy," he said gruffly. "Can you hang in there a little bit longer for me?"

"Sure dad." Sam gave him a brave smile.

"I've dropped by your school and collected the past two days assignments for you. Sorry that I couldn't have come by last night, but you know how it is."

No, Sam didn't have the first clue. "Sure Dad. Thanks for the school work; it'll give me something to do." Now Al knew Sam was bored out of his mind. With all his doctorates high school homework was roughly the equivalent of coloring books. He had never looked forward to doing anyone else's homework before.

"I have tomorrow off and will be able to spend the whole afternoon with you. I'll also call Fr. Jim and let him know that you're still here. Be sure to tell your mother that. I don't want her to think you're being neglected."

Al recognized the tone of voice. It was the result of far too many fights over who does what and how.

"Yes sir." Sam answered quickly.

Dr. O'Malley paused a moment, giving Sam a long look. "Be good to your mother when she comes tonight, let her know that you'll be staying longer and give your sister a hug and kiss for me." With that Dr. O'Malley gave Sam a hug and rushed out the door.

"I think I like him." Al said, grateful for the way things turned out.

"Yes." Sam was slightly choked up. Al looked at him puzzled. "My Dad used to hug me like that." His voice was very quiet, either because he was aware of the mic over his head or from emotion, Al couldn't tell.

"You ok?" He asked.

"Sure. I'm fine. When does Beth come on duty?"

"Five o'clock, only they expect her to be late." Al checked the hand link out of habit.

"They?" Sam asked.

"The nurses were talking this afternoon when I checked. Have you thought about what you're going to say to her?" He looked at Sam intently not sure how he felt on the matter.

"That an old flame wants to look her up again?" Sam was fishing.

"There's no worm on that hook Sam. If this was '69 it would be different but she's Dirk Simon's wife now."

"What if I ask for her advice on girlfriends?" Al looked at him sharply. "You know. How to tell the good girls from the bad - didn't Michael say his girlfriend had started giving him the creeps?"

"You might have something. He talked quite a bit about her. He can't make up his mind if he's over reacting or if she really is bad news. Seems as if she started calling at all hours after the accident and showing up at the house to nurse him after every seizure. She started following him everywhere a few days before Michael entered the hospital. She does sound like she needs a life." Al paused a moment to see if Ziggy had finished the background check on Mindy. "Outside a few school suspensions for forging hall passes and a few traffic tickets we really don't have much on her. Her parents divorced, she lives with her mother." Ziggy added something with a squeal. "Sounds like she likes to drink. According to the police report, Mindy was the one driving when Michael got into that accident. Michael's best friend was thrown from the car, he was pronounced dead on arrival." Al looked up, grim. "Michael was still in the hospital and missed the funeral. Mindy was the only one not seriously hurt." The room grew silent. Al found the chair he kept in the Imaging Chamber, moved it next to the bed where Dr. O'Malley had been sitting and sat down realizing that he had been on his feet all day and up all night. Al leaned back in the chair with a sigh. "Maybe I'm getting old." He looked at Sam with a smirk. "Used to be I could be up for days and still be ready for a fight."

"Trade places." Sam offered, grinning.

"In your dreams." Al murmured, drifting off. He was asleep before he knew it, the hand link cradled in his lap, the cigar forgotten between his fingers. All he was conscious of was Sam's watchful gaze.

#

"A woman has three motivations to love: Admiration, affection, and pity. Above all else you should avoid women, especially young women, who are motivated out of pity." It was Beth! He was home on San Diego and Beth was there talking to one of her friends. Al took a deep breath expecting sea air and Beth's perfume. Instead he got a lungful of the recycled air of the Imaging Chamber. The difference made him cough.

Beth was there though, talking to Sam in that quiet encouraging tone she had used to help patients through physical therapy – or whatever else ailed them. She was still beautiful. He hadn't intended to be here for this, he had said his goodbyes after all, but he sat there and listened, entranced.

"So you think I should talk to her and see if she is only motivated by pity?" Sam was doing his best to sound like a confused teenager and the struggle came across as genuine.

Beth smiled encouragingly. "You deserve your space and she needs to examine her motives and let go of her guilt. She probably wants some assurances that you have forgiven her." A shadow quickly crossed Sam's face. Anger? Frustration? Al thought about his Leap and how hard it was to pretend to be someone else, to solve someone else's problems with limited information and the inability to make promises or resolutions for the man he had Leaped into.

Beth changed the subject. "There was a man here earlier today who asked if an Al Calavicci had come by to visit. None of the nurses have heard of him." She paused a moment looking at Sam. "Do you know him?"

"Yes." Sam's voice was equally soft.

"Did he come here to visit?" Al couldn't read her face.

"In a manner of speaking," Sam was cautious. "The nurses wouldn't have been able to see him."

"Why not?" She was curious.

Sam looked at Al before answering. "I don't quite understand it myself and I'm not sure you would believe me."

"Try me." Her eyes flashed a friendly challenge.

Sam took a deep breath and told her everything. About meeting Al at Project Star Bright, about string theory, how they had built Ziggy and traveled through time, and how he had Leaped into Detective Rawlings and tried so hard to keep her from meeting Dirk Simon because Al wanted to preserve that marriage so desperately. How Al finally brought himself to visit her and how he got a moment to say goodbye. Al was near tears and Beth was furiously wiping her eyes, but Sam wasn't finished.

"He never forgot you, never stopped loving you. When we spoke earlier this afternoon about what Michael needed me to talk to you about he made it clear I wasn't to bring him up. He loves you Beth, and misses you terribly, but he respects your marriage even more."

Beth hugged herself, eerily reminiscent of what Donna had done just a few hours before. "Is he here now?" Tears streamed down her face unchecked.

"He fell asleep in that chair." Sam knew he was awake. Al gave him a grateful look.

"When he wakes up tell him that Dirk passed away a few years ago and that I'd…" Her voice faltered. "I never stopped loving him either, it's just I couldn't stand the not knowing and then so much time past. I thought for sure if he was still alive he would have found a way home, and then Dirk came and was such a comfort to me. If I had known I wouldn't have paid Dirk any mind." Her voice cracked with a fresh load of tears. Al got up and put his arms around her willing her to feel his comforting embrace.

"I never blamed you Beth." He whispered in her ear.

"You're not to blame for anything Beth." Sam echoed. "Al always spoke well of you. I couldn't tell you earlier, I hope you can understand." Sam had a few tears on his face too. "I suspect that if Al had been able to preserve your marriage he never would have taken that job at Star Bright and I never would have met him."

The news shocked Al. Of course if Beth had been waiting for him after 'Nam he would have kept his promise to her and left the Navy. He was right. Al tried to think of life without Sam, without Quantum Leap and couldn't. He let go of Beth and faced Sam. "You know, I can't imagine life without you."

Beth laughed. "No." She said, "I think after a few quiet evenings at home he would miss the Navy and flying too much. I'd bet right now he'd say he couldn't imagine life without Project Quantum Leap – or life without you." She gave Sam a mischievous smile. "He would have found a way."

Al was struck, the expression on his face so amused Sam that he threw his head back and laughed…

…And Leaped. Just before things faded out Al saw Michael's face contort with the beginning phases of a seizure and then nothing.

"Dr. Beckett has Leaped." Ziggy announced to everyone in the control center. Al stepped out of the Chamber and rubbed his face. He was still tired and somewhere he'd lost his cigar. He tossed the hand link to Gooshie and announced to no one in particular that he was going to bed and someone please tell Weitzman that Sam had Leaped.


	4. Chapter 3

No one knew what happened to Sam between Leaps, the only thing that seemed sure was that to Sam the time seemed to pass like the blink of an eye, but at the Project time could pass very slowly indeed which suited Al just fine. He packed his bags and flew to D.C. telling Tina that the Project should lose his number for awhile. Verbena told Donna to go on a vacation, that the Catskills were beautiful this time of year. Tina and Gooshie decided to go to Las Vegas. Things grew quiet. Dust settled and then…

**Thursday, October 20, 2005**

At first Sam thought they were snowflakes settling around his head and at his feet; large, dingy white snowflakes. His breath steamed around his face like smoke from one of Al's cigars, only the smell wasn't right.

"Fire!" He shouted in alarm realizing that it was ash he saw mixed in with the leaves at his feet.

Someone laughed at him. "You're in no danger of burning, silly goose."

Sam looked around him. Behind him, next to a burn barrel stood a young woman smiling at him. Her eyes were bright with merriment and her cheeks were rosy with the cold. A strand of her brown hair blew across her face and tickled her nose. She was very plain, but hardly ugly and her movements as she tucked her hair back under her hat were graceful. Sam noticed as she put her glove back on a plain claddagh ring on her right hand, crown towards her finger tip. Did that mean she was engaged? Sam found himself blushing furiously and hoping like mad that she wasn't engaged to him.

"What's keeping you Charlie?" She was looking at him intently still smiling.

"Uh!"

She walked over to him and gently kissed him on the cheek.

"Oh, boy!"

**Saturday morning, October 15, 2005**

Al stepped off the plane at the D.C. airport and went to visit a friend. Diane McBride had been one of those people whose lives had been changed by Sam's Leaping. Al remembered watching as the old committee chairman vanished just before he could put the kibosh on the Project replaced with Diane McBride who vaguely remembered meeting a Samuel Beckett at the time. She had since figured it out.

"Hello Diane, I've come for a favor."

"How's our intrepid time traveler?" She greeted him with a smile and a quick hug.

"Between Leaps, his last Leap was less than an hour short of being home."

"It's been a long time. It would be good if Sam could come home soon. Tom would like to meet him." Tom McBride was a retired New York City police officer, back in April of 1960 Sam Leaped into Tom on their honeymoon to insure Diane passed the bar exam.

"How's Tom?"

"Enjoying his grandchildren and hating retirement." She said with a laugh. "But you didn't come here to swap grandchildren stories." Her eyes were bright with amusement as she gestured to a chair. "Have a seat and tell me what this is about."

Al sat down in one of the chairs across from the senator's desk. The room was warm and Al found himself suddenly sweating. "Sam had Leaped into a 17 year old boy named Michael O'Malley who was in the hospital under observation. Seizures," he explained quickly. "Once Weitzman found out about it he requested permission to interview both Michael and Sam. He had seen the EEG's."

"I remember that." Diane cut in simply.

"Weitzman himself interviewed Sam," Al continued, "keeping within the boundaries agreed to by myself and the committee. Weitzman then went on to question the hospital staff, asking if people from the Project had been by to visit 'Michael' – he asked about me by name." Al paused to catch his breath. "One of the evening nurses recognized my name – she's my ex-wife. She started asking questions and figured out that Sam was Michael." Al hoped that Diane wouldn't ask too many questions about that. Ziggy had been able to erase the audio record of that conversation. The video was left alone once it was determined that a lip reader wouldn't have been able to follow the conversation. Sam had been careful. "After Weitzman's clumsy investigation a couple of goons tried to take Sam to a research facility. Michael's father happened to be visiting at the time and put a stop to it. The Committee member back at the Project told me about it."

"There was no attempt to get the father's permission before moving Sam?" Diane was all business again.

"To my knowledge no one has contacted Dr. O'Malley. He certainly didn't sound like a man who was expecting people to move his son."

"That's technically kidnapping. When Sam Leaps into a minor the law would regard him as a minor, parental consent is needed before doing anything. The parents can even restrict who can visit their children. Michael, being 17 would have more latitude there. What's your opinion on the parents, are they likely to press charges? And how much have they figured out?"

"I intend to talk to the hospital staff first. Dr. O'Malley seemed to think his wife was behind it. I don't know if an investigation has begun yet. I expect one. And yes, I think if possible one or the other of Michael's parents will press charges. Ziggy is working on removing Sam's EEG readings from Michael's file replacing it with the ones taken from his stay in the waiting room. My gut tells me that it's going to take more than changing electronic copies. The doctors were in quite a stir – they decided to keep Michael over the weekend because of Sam's readings. I don't know how much the parents had been told – or even what they have been told, only that the doctors had talked to Michael's father before the henchmen showed up. Depending on what I've learned there I'll talk to the father."

"Talk to me first."

"Yes ma'am, and I'll keep an eye on Weitzman." He had always liked Senator McBride, and not just because she had always been good to the Project. Well it didn't hurt that she was still beautiful.

Al left Diane's house with a grin on his face and went to visit some old friends who still owed him a few favors.

Favors were as good as money in this business.

Sometimes better.

#

One of the people Al spoke to was retired Captain Mark Davalos, who still worked in the Pentagon. Instead of the usual awards and photos of politicians hamming it up, Mark's office was Spartan, only photos of family and one of Mark and Al along with Terry Martin, another young officer whose career Al saved.

"How's the wife and kids?" Al began.

"Good. John wants to go to the academy and Sarah still doesn't know what she wants. She loved that plane ride you gave them last time you were out. I think she wants to be a pilot but knows that would scare her mother to no end. She'll figure something out I'm sure." Mark had a charming smile that still made him look like a 20-something innocent kid. "So what brings you here? How can I help?"

Innocent, but never naive.

"I need a little investigation done into a rather complicated matter. A 17-year old kid was nearly kidnapped from the hospital last Friday afternoon. The kid's father seems to think the wife was responsible, but I know for a fact that a committee member from one of the top secret projects was involved up to her eyeballs. She bragged about it to me just before the fact. I highly doubt the wife knows anything. The chairwoman is conducting an internal investigation, but I want someone on the outside looking as well. The chairwoman is impeccable; I can vouch for that personally. But…" Al left off.

"A second pair of eyes is always helpful." Mark finished.

"True." Not to mention useful for covering ass Al thought. "I needn't mention that absolute discretion is needed. Someone should also watch the kid, just in case those creeps try again."

"Not a problem. I can send out the Marines." Mark grinned.

"Fine, but quiet like. I don't want to attract too much attention." There was a part of Al that was greatly relieved, and another that wished he could whip out Ziggy's link and check the odds. Live in the present, he reminded himself.

"Yes sir." Mark reached for the phone, "I know just who to call. Don't worry about a thing."

**Thursday, October 20, 2005**

Donna sighed, she knew that she wasn't supposed to bring work with her on her vacation, but she couldn't help it. Her gut told her that she was so close. It was almost if she could feel Sam's presence on the porch where she was sitting.

"What are you doing?" A little boy watched her with wide-eyed innocence.

Donna chuckled guiltily. "Something I'm not supposed to be doing." She admitted, then changed the subject before the child could ask what that was. "What are _you_ doing?"

"Watching over you."

For a second he looked exactly like Sam. Donna caught her breath wondering if…

"What's your name?" She had to remind herself to breathe.

"Charlie. Least that's what my aunt calls me." The boy jerked a thumb over his shoulder towards a woman burning leaves in her side yard. "May I look?" He asked pointing at her papers. Once again there was something in his manner that reminded her of Sam. He took the file from the coffee table beside her and sat down. Donna watched as the little boy, certainly not more than 6 years old, read and seemed to understand the complex physics in the proposal. "This is wrong." He pointed to one of the figures, "It should be… Do you have a pencil?" His blue eyes were intense as he looked at her.

She offered him her pen. "Will this do?"

"Thank you." He made a few adjustments to the formula and changed one of the diagrams slightly. "I'm not sure that will work. It seems that I'm missing something. It's worth a try anyway." He stood in front of her and gave back the pen and file. He stood there a moment longer looking at her as if trying to remember where he had seen her before. Donna held her breath. "I should go." He hesitated a moment longer and then left to rejoin his aunt. Donna couldn't believe her eyes.

**Tuesday, October 25, 2005**

Now it was Al's turn to laugh. He laughed so hard he nearly fell off his seat.

"Al! It's not that funny." Sam hissed.

Al's sides ached, he laughed so hard. Finally he had to stop in order to breathe. "You have to admit that is funny." Al wiped the tears from the corner of his eyes, and started chuckling again.

"Al!" Sam's voice nearly cracked.

"Oh Sam, I woke up in a really good mood this morning, I've been in a good mood all week actually."

"You and Tina finally made up?" Sam asked.

"Tina? No."

"Al, promise me you won't tell anyone." Sam was still embarrassed from his experience of that afternoon.

"Just tell me," Al asked suddenly curious, "if she wasn't Charlie's fiancée then who was she?"

"She was his aunt."

Al chuckled, "Oh, that one will get past down the family!"

Sam sighed and flopped back into the bunk where he was supposed to be sleeping.

"But don't worry, Sam, your secret is safe with me." Sam smiled gratefully and then yawned. It'd been a long day. "What else did you do?" Al asked.

"I raked leaves mostly. It was as if God decided I needed a holiday after being cooped up for so long." Sam smiled. "And then I helped a woman with her homework and came here and raked more leaves."

Al had been surprised to discover that his friend had Leaped back into Michael O'Malley a week after Michael got out of the hospital – still barely an hour in the past. The evening stars were shining brightly before Al paid his visit with Sam. He had to look up a few things first. The house was quiet, Dr. O'Malley wasn't expected back until late and Michael's aunt was preoccupied in the kitchen. Her room was downstairs anyway.

"Sorry I missed it." Al didn't usually miss Sam's Leaps, but he hadn't gotten back from D.C. in time, it had been an incredibly short Leap.

"So what were you up to?" Sam broke into Al's reverie.

"Meetings." Al's voice made it clear that he didn't necessarily mean the kind that took place in boardrooms. Al watched Sam stretch out on the bunk. It was really nice being able to talk to his friend without worrying about other people overhearing.

"Of course you enjoyed yourself immensely."

"Of course!"

It was the last week of October. Football season was in full swing and Michael and his dad were big fans. Michael was no longer on the team because of the seizures but he was blest with friends who cared deeply for him and struggled to keep his life as normal as possible. They had dropped by after practice to toss the ball around with him and talked him into going to the next day's game. It had been a full and exhausting day for Sam and as he started drifting off to sleep Al said, "Thanks Sam. I certainly couldn't have gotten back with Beth without you. And she means everything to me." Then Al walked through the walls to the front yard before using the Door so that the noise wouldn't disturb Sam.

#

The next morning Sam woke up to the smell of bacon and eggs wafting throughout the house.

"Rise and shine Mikey. School awaits and if you miss the bus you walk!"

It was a dire threat indeed. He launched himself out of bed, grabbed his clothes and ran for the shower. A little dog barked at his heals all the way down the hall.

"Bad dog!" Sam tried.

"Woof!" It responded.

"I think that's dog for 'bad human'." Al translated. The dog yipped in agreement. "I have your school schedule here, locker number and combination… Oh and Mikey says to drop by Mr. Davis' class first thing and pick up Mindy's assignment for the day."

"I thought they weren't supposed to be dating." Sam had dashed back to the room, shut the door on the dog, and scribbled down the information Al was holding for him.

"They're not dating anymore. They made an agreement. She gets help and sticks to it and he takes her to the winter formal. She's been making real progress, he's quite proud of her."

"That's good to hear." He put the paper in Michael's school bag and opened the bedroom door carefully, looking for the dog. Sure enough it had been lying in wait. "Do you think Mikey would forgive me if I didn't take a shower this morning?" The thought of walking bare foot down that hall again was a little unnerving.

"It's just a little dog Sam." Al encouraged.

"With little, sharp teeth." Sam complained.

"Mikey! Move it!" A voice boomed from the stairs. The dog jumped, just as startled as Sam and started yapping furiously. "Elizabeth, your dog wants out." Dr. O'Malley finally appeared, scooping the dog up. He made his second attempt to get to the shower.

"See ya' after breakfast Sam." Al pushed a button on the link opening the Door. The dog went nuts, twisting itself out of Dr. O'Malley's hands and furiously charging Al and the Door. "Goodbye, Ankle-biter." Al said to the dog as he stepped through and disappeared. Disoriented the dog ran nose first into the wall.

"Elizabeth!"

Sam quickly shut the bathroom door before the dog could acquire a new target.

"There is something up with your dog!" Dr. O'Malley bellowed from the hall. Sam breathed a sigh of relief.

Clean and neatly dressed, Sam presented himself at the breakfast table. "Good morning, sir." he said still not sure how Michael addressed his dad.

"You're very formal this morning." Michael's dad smiled at him. "No, you can't borrow the car. Sorry. If you can't find a friend to take you to the game I'll take you." He smiled hopefully.

"Thanks Dad." Sam smiled back and thought he'd probably enjoy going to the game with Dr. O'Malley anyway. "I'd like to go with you."

The smile on the other man's face fairly beamed. "I'll pick you up here at 4."

"Thanks."

"Breakfast is on the stove. Don't forget to say good morning to your aunt. See you at 4." With that O'Malley grabbed his jacket and keys, hugged Sam goodbye and left.

Breakfast was a scrambled egg casserole with cheddar cheese, onions, mushrooms and sweet peppers with chunks of bacon mixed in diced potatoes. There were fresh baked biscuits and coffee to go with it. It was the sort of breakfast his mother would have served. Only meals at his house growing up were always family affairs. Sam idly wondered if there was a connection between meals on the run and divorce. After breakfast he cleared the table and went looking for Michael's aunt.

He found her sitting in the living room, knitting with only one needle. Sam was quite certain that he had never seen anyone do that before.

"It's an afghan hook Sam."

Sam just about jumped out of his skin, but any reply he could have made was interrupted by the dog barking furiously at Al.

"Shoo!" Al shouted back.

The dog sat abruptly on its heals looking first at Al then at Sam.

"Errn!" It protested and trotted over to Michael's aunt. They followed, watching. The dog sat at the woman's feet and put a paw on her knee. It yipped at her until she put her hook down and told the dog, "Alright. I'm listening." The dog made an incredible range of noises varying from yips to moans and whining. Finally it sneezed violently enough to lift it clear off of its paws. "You don't say! As bad as all that?" The aunt inquired. Sam was beginning to think her batty but stayed, fascinated by the show. The dog moaned some more then paused a moment to chase its tail. "I'm afraid I don't understand." The dog stopped chasing to yip violently, bouncing backwards. "That's no call to get fresh!" The aunt protested. The dog stopped immediately and covered its eyes with a paw then rolled over. "Apology accepted." The aunt smiled and the dog sat up, wagged its tail and placed its paws on the woman's knee again. "Well, I'll see what I can do." The dog bounced to all fours, yipped in apparent glee and trotted into the kitchen, sneezing on Al as it passed.

"I think I've just been insulted." Al protested.

Michael's aunt watched Sam. "It seems you've offended Marta." The dog evidently was Marta.

"The dog?" he asked just to be sure.

"Yes, the dog." Michael's aunt picked up her afghan hook and continued working. "You've done something serious to offend her and she doesn't like who you've been with lately."

All the sudden the aunt didn't seem quite so batty. For a panicky second Sam wondered if she could see or hear Al – he vaguely remembered something like that had happened before.

"I'm not too sure what she is complaining about, I'm not sure she knows exactly either, but do try to be nicer to her."

"Yes ma'am." Sam turned about and headed for the kitchen. The little mongrel had its head stuck out the doorway watching the whole thing, but now that he was on his way it pulled back quickly.

"How do you make peace with a dog?" Sam asked.

"You feed it." Al suggested.

Sam opened the fridge and pulled out a slice of ham. "Peace offering," he said holding it out to the dog who cautiously took it from his fingers. "And you mustn't mind Al. He's harmless. Usually."

The dog licked the ham juice from his fingers keeping one eye on Al as if reserving judgment.

"Do you think the dog told that woman about me?"

It was hard to tell if Al was being sarcastic.

"Can you think of some other explanation?" He looked Al in the eye.

"But a talking dog?"

Sam shrugged. "Who else could have given her the opinion that I've been with someone today?" Someone the dog didn't like and barked at every time he came around he didn't have to add.

"I don't know Sam, maybe she can hear me."

Sam quickly looked toward the doorway. Hadn't he entertained the same thought? "Maybe you should go over to her and say something."

"Like what? Hello hot mama?"

Sam groaned and rolled his eyes. "If you can't think of anything better."

Al went back into the living room and stood over the woman there. "What cha' making?" He shouted around his cigar. Michael's aunt didn't react. Al looked back at Sam and the dog who both had their heads sticking around the kitchen doorway and shrugged. Sam came out with the dog following at his heals.

"Ah!" The woman said. "That's better now. All friends again?"

"Yes ma'am." Sam hoped.

The dog examined Al.

"Yes ma'am." Al agreed reluctantly.

"That's good. Run along now and let me finish this blanket."

Sam vanished up the stairs like a shot, Al and dog in hot pursuit.

Once in Michael's room, Sam turned to Al. "I think I'm here to fix Michael's parent's marriage." He looked slightly miserable about it.

"Ziggy says they're not divorced yet," Al read off the hand link, "in fact the hearing isn't scheduled until after New Years." Al pushed a few more buttons. "There really isn't much information on the O'Malley family. Doctor Jack O'Malley works at the hospital, an administrator, he's often gone evenings. Mrs. Bernadette O'Malley is a teacher and spends allot of her time with students. They separated last spring. Bernadette filed for a divorce earlier this month claiming irreconcilable differences."

"What school does she work at?" Sam asked.

"Roosevelt High. Michael goes to the Catholic school though, so you won't see her there. But you might see her tonight the two high schools are playing each other. You got a plan?" Al asked.

"No. It'd help if I knew more. 'Irreconcilable differences' could mean anything. It'd also help if I knew more about Sally." He hinted strongly as he grabbed Michael's bag and headed towards the door. "Where was she last night, she never came home."

"She lives with her mother since last March." Al made a face. "It was one of those divide and conquer child support things."

Sam knew Al had firm opinions about dividing up siblings gained from his experience in an orphanage while his sister was locked up in an institution. "They had a child support hearing last spring but didn't file for divorce until a few weeks ago?"

"Yeah, this has been an on again off again sort of thing until Michael was hospitalized."

"What happened?" Sam looked around for Michael's aunt; the dog still at his heals suspicious of everything he did. A bus pulled up in front of the house. Sam headed out towards it, shutting the door on the dog before it could dash out after him.

"No one knows." Al answered his question while walking right through the door. "I'll ask around."

#

"Sir? We have a problem…"

Al listened intently to the caller for several minutes, the color slowly draining from his face. Verbena, Donna, Tina and Gooshie watched quietly. They had gathered in one of the smaller conference rooms to pool resources to figure out how to get the information Sam needed that Ziggy couldn't find when Al received a call from one of his contacts at the Capitol.

It's not good news, is it Al?" Tina asked without a trace of the ditzy red-head act that Al found at times to be so amusing but left Donna gritting her teeth.

"It's bad." Al paused a moment to look around him. "Cynthia Marley, the committee woman involved with the attempted kidnapping, was last seen in the D.C. area, no one knows where she is now. The investigation revealed that she was originally planted in the committee in order to blackmail Weitzman, or perhaps destroy his political career. Now it seems likely that from the beginning she was working for someone else. Someone who is proficient in covering their tracks and that Sam may have been the target all along."

"It sounds as if our security has been breached." Donna, ever practical, piped up.

"And for some time," Verbena agreed. "Who compromised our security? Was it someone here? Or did the leak originate with the committee?"

"We don't know." Al was grim. "If you'll excuse me, I have to make a call." He got up and left the conference room.

Once in his office he closed the door, took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Ziggy."

"Yes Admiral?"

"Do you know if our phones have been tapped?"

"Our communications network is secure, if anyone is listening in to the project's phone calls it's not from this end." The computer sounded offended that he would even think of such a thing.

"So if we have a leak here it's a human being." Somehow that was less than comforting.

"There is always Weitzman's spy." Ziggy offered.

"I know all about him. Weitzman planted him after Tina infected his personal computer with a virus that one time he had me jerked off the project. He's harmless." Al waved his hand dismissively then rubbed his face.

"The leak could be located in Weitzman's office using information provided by the spy here."

Al thought about that. That made sense. "I'll have Mark look into that. Thanks Ziggy. But first things first," Al picked up the phone. "Senator McBride's office," he told the operator. "Hello Diane? This is Al. It's time to talk to Dr. O'Malley, Michael's father. Yes. Has Mark been by yet? He ought to be there soon then. He'll explain everything. One last thing, could you talk to the O'Malley's for me please? I won't be able to spare the time what with the Leap and the investigation. Thanks Diane, I owe you. I'll call you later tonight. Send my best to Tom. Bye."

Al hung up, then quickly dialed a number he never shared with the operator. "Mark, glad I caught you. Got a sec?"

#

There was something about high school. It was supposed to prepare teenagers for life after graduation and yet it was unlike anything else in life. It was unlike anything Sam Beckett had experienced in his life. But it wasn't the size and complexity of the laptops students used that had given Sam the greatest shock; it was the student calendar. Sam's first Leap was in 1995, he had been Leaping for 10 years and during all that time this was the first time he had Leaped past the barrier created by that first Leap. The realization shocked him so badly that he spent the rest of the day in a fog.

"Michael O'Malley!"

"Yes sir?" Sam answered literally jerked back to the present moment.

"The next time you have a seizure stay home!" The teacher sounded angry.

"I did not have a seizure this morning. You have no call to persecute me!"

"Don't talk back to me young man." Mr. Jackson snapped.

"What you're doing is extremely unjust. You have no right to order me to go home like some miserable dog!" Sam's voice cracked. The sheer misery this teacher had heaped on Michael was recorded in great heart breaking detail in his journal. Ever since Michael's first seizure this teacher tormented him. Refusing to let him catch up missed assignments, refusing to give any kind of help which might cause Michael to be alone with him. It was the standard practice of most of the teachers in the school to arrive early and open their classrooms to students needing help before school. Twice Michael's journal recorded that this teacher had thrown him out. As a result of this Michael's grades in this one subject were plummeting. The other students offered sympathy and Mindy regularly shared notes and offered to study with him, but Michael didn't feel comfortable spending that much time with his ex-girlfriend and Sam understood. The rest of his classmates that hour didn't know Michael and as a result of the seizure and the teacher's bullying actions they were very nervous around him. Sam suspected that their behavior had more to do with the later than the former.

"You are the one being unfair," Mr. Jackson was growing red-faced, "characterizing my actions as persecution, insisting that I'm treating you unjustly! I want you to face how your illness affects others. You have no right to impose on others!"

"I'm not sick! Epilepsy is not a disease. There is no cure. It's not contagious. Sometimes there's weeks between seizures! Would you have me live in a plastic bubble until you, personally, are satisfied that I'm not going to have another seizure? Could you be satisfied?" Sam was furious.

"Yes! For the sake of others you should be in a hospital until your condition is cured!"

Sam couldn't believe his ears. "Didn't you hear me? There is no cure! You're talking about institutionalizing me possibly for the rest of my life because there's a chance you might see a seizure!" The thought was galling. "Who's imposing on whom? I have the right to live my life. I don't need your permission first!"

"You're just being selfish!"

"What! How is insisting on my right to an education selfish?" Sam realized he was near snapping. How did Michael take this every day?

"I already told you, you're not being considerate of other people."

Sam struggled vainly to understand the other man's point of view, but as terrifying as witnessing a seizure was, it still did not justify the extreme measures he was demanding. Sam didn't have very many clear memories of Havenwell, but the thought of being forced to live in a place like that filled him with an intense terror. "If you don't want me in your class perhaps the dean can find an alternative acceptable for both of us."

The teacher just blinked but remained unmollified. "This is a required course and there is no one else teaching it this hour." He seemed to dismiss Sam's suggestion.

"I'm willing to completely rearrange my schedule if it need come to that." Sam hoped Michael wouldn't mind, but if desperate measures weren't attempted Michael would flunk the subject this semester. It was so late in the period he might anyway. Why hadn't Michael talked to his father about this? Sam suspected that Michael didn't want to burden his parents with private problems during their divorce.

"It's too late in the marking period for that." Again the teacher was dismissing the problem.

"Sir, I have tried working with you, approaching you before school. I have offered to stay after class. I have worked with other students in this class. I have done everything I can do to pass your class! You have a problem with my health and have held it against me. You have refused to work with me and now attempt to dismiss me from not just your class, but the entire school – ordering me to stay home because of my health! Do you mind explaining your reasons?"

"You are disrupting my class." The teacher stood in front of Sam's row of desks, leaning over him from a 'safe' distance.

"You owe me an explanation!" Sam demanded.

"You are a danger to yourself and everyone around you!" The teacher finally yelled.

"I am not a ticking time bomb!" Now Sam was on his feet, "and you have no right to treat me that way! I have a right to an education guaranteed by law and _you_ are infringing on that right! If you had a problem teaching me then you should have immediately gone to the dean and said so!"

"I did! I was told that it was too late in the semester to transfer you. That the best they could do was to ensure you got someone else next semester." Mr. Jackson snapped.

"Then you should have talked to me." The teacher's face made plain just what he thought of that. "I could easily have asked my doctor to provide any information you needed…"

"I didn't need information," the teacher cut in, "I've already seen a seizure, I've seen how dangerous it is."

Suddenly Sam was furious. "I think, sir, I would very much like to go to the office." He said tightly.

"I think that is a good idea." The teacher was smug. "Don't come back." He snarled, handing Sam a hall pass. Sam looked at Mindy's shocked face as he left. She quickly gave him a thumbs up as he passed her.

Lucky for Sam the main office was the easiest office to find. Once there he asked to speak to the principal. The principal was none other than Fr. Jim who had visited Michael in the hospital and had been a longtime friend of Dr. O'Malley.

"Mikey! To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit? Are you coming to tonight's game?" The priest put his arm around Sam and led him into his office, closing the door behind him.

"Yes, I plan on coming to tonight's game with Dad. But I'm here because of Mr. Jackson."

"The Math teacher," Fr. Jim was no longer smiling. "I wondered when you would come to me. You know just because I'm your dad's friend doesn't mean you can't confide school problems to me. I won't go to your father without your permission."

Sam took the offered seat wondering why Michael had insisted on suffering alone. "I appreciate that. I don't want to cause problems," Sam assumed, "but if something isn't done soon I'm going to fail this class." Sam repeated the last words of Michael's school journal. "Now it's gotten so bad that Mr. Jackson ordered me to not come back to his class."

"That's serious." Father folded his hands together on his desk and leaned forward conspiratorially. "Tell me everything Mikey."

Sam did, glossing over nothing and omitting no detail that he had read in Michael's journal he had found in his locker, nor from the conversation that morning. He hoped Michael wouldn't mind, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

"I don't believe it is as bleak as Mr. Jackson puts it," Sam finished, "and it doesn't excuse his behavior if it is. I did everything I could think of. I don't know what else to do. In hindsight I should have come to you sooner. Time got away from me I guess." In a manner of speaking, Sam had to quash a wry smile.

"Don't be so hard on yourself, "Fr. Jim advised. "You wouldn't be the first person to be so overwhelmed by the moment that he lost sight of the big picture. Remember the saying…"

"Something about not being able to see the forest because of the trees?" Sam smiled.

Father laughed. "That's the spirit!" He unfolded his fingers long enough to press a button beside him. "Please bring in Michael O'Malley's record." Then to Sam, "Perhaps I'm a bit of a dinosaur but I prefer paper files to electronic ones."

Privately Sam agreed, he may have designed and built the most advanced computer of his age, but he had spent the past decade wondering around in the pre-personal computer age. Sam was suffering from culture shock.

A secretary brought in a file and Fr. Jim thumbed quickly through it. He seemed pretty familiar with the details already. When Sam mentioned that the principle flashed him a guilty smile. "Your father had dropped by last night with questions. He figured out that something was wrong. When he got the last report card he came to me. I only told him that I would speak to you about it." He reassured him, "If you're having a problem in school you can trust your father to help, even in the midst of his own personal problems. You do understand that?"

"I didn't want to trouble him." Sam hoped that was Michael's reason. He couldn't imagine not going to his own father if he had a problem himself growing up.

"Are you sure that it's not because of what happened to Jake?" Fr. Jim's gaze was as penetrating as any laser.

"Jake?" Sam had never heard the name before.

"Do you still blame your father for Jake's death?"

The light slowly dawned on Sam. Jake must have been Michael's best friend, the one who died in the same accident that caused Michael's seizures. Sam couldn't begin to guess how Michael would answer these questions, nor why he should blame his father when the police report said Mindy had caused the accident. "I don't see what that has to do with Mr. Jackson." Sam said carefully, hoping that he'd have time to talk to Al later. "I'd like to discuss what I'm to do about that," quickly glancing at his watch he added, "I don't have much time before next period."

"No. I'm sorry, but if you want to talk about it my door is always open." Father looked very sad indeed, obviously taking Sam's reaction for confirmation. He continued flipping through the file, looking for something. "Ah ha!" Fr. Jim slid two papers across the desk towards Sam. They were two emails, one from Mr. Jackson requesting Michael be removed from his class following a seizure dated the first week of October; the other from the dean refusing the request on the grounds that it was unjust to remove a student for a health issue that was being addressed. The dean's email also mentioned that it was late in the period to transfer but if he was uncomfortable with Michael he could change Michael's schedule for the next marking period. Scribbled across the bottom of the dean's email was a hasty note: "Keep an eye on him please."

"You knew he didn't want me in his class?"

"Yes, but until you spoke up now we didn't know the rest."

"What did you tell my dad?"

"That I would speak to you," Fr. Jim set the file to the side and leaned over the desk again. "Your father doesn't know what's in that file and he hasn't asked. He wants you to speak to him; he wants you to trust him again."

Sam didn't know what to say about that. It was Michael who needed to speak to his father and unfortunately that was the one thing he couldn't do.

"What am I to do about Mr. Jackson? Just show up in his class tomorrow?" Sam felt hopeless, no teenager should be forced into this position and yet he suspected Michael probably wasn't the only one.

"I will speak to Mr. Jackson today. Come here for 4th period tomorrow. See you at the game tonight."

"Yes sir. Thank you." Sam shook his hand and left. Hearing the Door shut as he closed the office door behind him Sam looked around and spotted Al standing outside the men's room. It seemed every Leap they had at least one men's room conference, but Sam's light hearted quip on that observation died unspoken on his lips. "What's wrong?" He asked instead.

"In here Sam, quick." Al made an impatient gesture with his cigar then disappeared into the men's room instead of waiting, as he usually did, for Sam to open the door for him. When Sam entered Al was double checking the stalls, making sure they were empty before starting. "Do you remember the details of your last Leap into Michael?" Al cut right to the quick.

"Sure, I spent allot of time unable to get out of bed because I was hooked up to some machine..."

Al cut in. "Remember anything else? Just before Michael's dad paid you a visit?"

"Some noise in the hall." It wasn't that his memory was hazy, he never did find out what was going on and his attention had been focused on what to say to Beth anyway.

"Someone, we don't really know who, tried to kidnap Michael that day and we have reason to believe they may try again." Al looked uncomfortable. "We do know one person who was involved," Al showed Sam a picture, "Cynthia Marley, she was last seen in the area and may try again tonight at the game." Al fidgeted with his cigar while Sam got a closer look at the woman.

"Al?" Sam hesitated a moment. "Is this kidnapper after me, or Michael?"

"What made you ask that?" Al had nearly dropped his cigar.

"Because – just a hunch." Sam couldn't really say what had made him suspect it was a personal matter, but Al's behavior seemed to confirm it. "Does Dr. O'Malley know?"

"Yeah," Al said simply, "about the kidnapping attempt, not who you are of course, nor why someone would try to take you. We don't know ourselves."

"Al. I know what year it is." That was no surprise to Al, "I saw Donna's plan – she was the woman I helped last Leap. I know how close I am to being home. Perhaps this person who's attempting to kidnap me knows these things too and wants _me_ in order to get information on how to Leap?" It only sounded far-fetched.

Al's voice was chilling when he finally answered, "It's possible."

"How did this person find out about me?"

"We don't know. Our investigation isn't complete, but it suggests that a political enemy of one of our committee members was attempting to dig up some dirt and things sort of got out of hand." Al waved the cigar in emphasis.

The bell rang marking the end of the period.

"I need to get to my next class. Hey Al?"

"Yeah?" Al paused, finger over the button.

"Find out who Jake is, and Mr. Jackson. Mr. Jackson is the Math teacher here and Jake might be Michael's friend who died. And something tells me that there was much more to that accident than what was recorded in that police report."

"You think there's some kind of connection between Michael's school problems and that accident?"

"No, it might have something to do with his family problems though. It was something Fr. Jim mentioned. He suspects Michael isn't speaking to his father anymore because of the accident. He suggested that Michael blames his father for Jake's death."

"Right on it." Al said and was gone.


	5. Chapter 4

Dr. Jack O'Malley looked at his watch. Soon his son would be getting home from school. He had promised to pick him up at 4. They were going to the game. It was the first time since the accident that Mikey had shown so much interest in football. He was not going to disappoint him now.

"Are you sure?" He repeated.

Senator McBride simply nodded her head, her shoulder-length blond hair held out of her face by a simple clip. She had just spent the past half hour trying to explain that someone had threatened to kidnap his son and no one knew why or when. "She has tried before, at the hospital."

Jack made a wry face. She had said that before as well as the reason why they hadn't come to him sooner. Somehow Mikey had got caught up in some kind of internal investigation in some kind of top secret committee. All it meant was if anyone ever figured out what was going on they would never take the time to explain it to a few humble O'Malleys.

"We want you to understand; this woman is in the area and has stated her intention of kidnapping your son. She never said why or when. We assume that she will try again at tonight's game.

"You know about that?" Mrs. Bernadette O'Malley was surprised, but remembering the car parked in front of his house Jack wasn't surprised at all.

"Yes and a few other things. We will have agents there at the game just in case. We hope to dissuade her if nothing else."

Bernadette was enraged, as usual. The doctor struggled not to sigh out loud or roll his eyes.

"Mrs. O'Malley," Senator McBride cut her off quickly with the ease of many years practice as judge. "I completely understand what it is like to have someone you love threatened. I know exactly how powerless it makes you feel. But I want you to understand you are not alone, and you are not powerless. Michael is being watched, and we have everyone looking for this woman. She cannot hide forever. She failed to get your son the first time and she will fail again. All you need to do is co-operate with our investigators and continue living your life as you normally would. Spend some time with your son."

"Why would this woman have any interest in my son?" She asked. "He's just a kid!"

The senator examined the file in front of her. It had several pictures of Mikey, reports he couldn't read and something that looked like a medical report. He saw several pages of EEG readings. "It has something to do with this, doesn't it?" He pulled the readings out of the file.

"Excuse me, that's top secret." McBride pulled the file out of his reach, taking the EEG readings out of his hands.

"I've seen that before. The doctors showed me at the hospital. They have never seen anything like it."

The senator slowly closed the file and set it off to the side. "We won't know Ms. Marley's reasons until after we question her, but it is reasonable to assume Michael's unusual readings may have something to do with it. We are examining every possibility. Please do not read more into that then what is there." With that she stood and escorted them to the door. "Our investigator will be getting in touch with you soon." And just like that it was over. They were handed a few business cards, and asked to call if they noticed anything unusual. Jack looked at his watch again.

"Gotta run. Mikey's waiting." He looked at his wife out of the corner of his eye. She made no move to detain him so he ran.

What on earth was he going to say to Mikey?

Turned out he didn't have to say anything. Mikey saw the picture of Ms. Marley the senator gave him.

"Oh, you have her picture too." He seemed surprised. "Did Al talk to you too?"

"Who's Al?"

Mikey stumbled a bit. If he didn't know him so well he'd swear his son was going to lie to him.

"He's the guy who showed me Cynthia's picture." Maybe that wasn't a lie, but it certainly wasn't the whole truth.

"And…" He prodded as they got into the car.

"And something about how she wanted to kidnap me." Mikey's heart wasn't in answering questions. All the sudden Jack was filled with a terror of losing his son that had nothing to do with kidnapping threats.

"How was school?" He changed tactics.

"Terrible, well not all terrible," Mikey fidgeted in the seat for a few minutes. "My teachers are extremely nervous whenever I'm around. Mr. Jackson threw me out of his classroom and told me not to come back. He wanted me to go home early and stay. He's just afraid I'll have another seizure in school." Mikey was the very picture of misery. "I'm just tired of people being afraid of me. Tired of people over reacting every time they think I'm acting oddly. Just once I'd like to be distracted without someone blowing up!"

"Just once?" Jack teased.

"Maybe more often than that." Mikey almost smiled. "Why do people take my seizures so personally? They're not the ones getting hurt."

Obviously Mikey had forgotten the time he had landed on Sally. She sported a lump the size of a goose egg for over a week. Jack sighed. "Perhaps they feel responsible. They feel powerless. Sometimes people feel pills have a magical power to solve all problems instantly and feel betrayed when they don't."

"They need to stop taking that out on me." Mikey sounded bitter.

"Let me help." Jack implored. His heart ached every time he saw his son suffer like this, but this was the first time in months that Mikey had opened up so much.

"What could you do? These people are set in their opinions. Mr. Jackson was blatant. He feels that I am a threat to the welfare of everyone around me! He actually said I should be institutionalized and that I was being selfish for insisting on being educated just like everyone else! How do you work with someone who refuses to work with you? Who won't even listen?"

"Mikey," he cut in hearing the panic growing in his son's voice and wanting to nip it in the bud. "I'm not putting you in an institution, no matter what he believes. We don't do that anymore. You're safe, ok?" He spared a glance at his son who seemed unusually pale. "You ok?" He asked, genuinely worried.

"No, I'm not ok. I'm afraid I can't pull my grades up before the end of the marking period and I've tried everything. I've tried working with Mr. Jackson and during lunch today I looked up the other Math teachers. They said that they can't help me either. That it's too late in the marking period."

"I'm sorry that I'm rarely home to help you. I'm proud of your efforts to help yourself first. It's natural to want to not burden others with our problems, especially when we see them struggling with their own. But I want you to understand that I consider this problem to be very serious, very important, and I want to help. It's not an imposition at all, alright?" He took advantage of a red light to smile at his son who hesitantly smiled back. "That's my boy!" he put his arm around Mikey's shoulders. "Tell you what. How about we enjoy this game and afterwards look at that Math homework. We'll tackle one day at a time. Together." Mikey's face fairly glowed.

"Thanks Dad."

They arrived at the Roosevelt stadium on Upshure. The parking lot was packed.

"Is Mom coming?" Mikey asked.

"You know Mom hates football."

Mikey just looked at the woman's picture in the seat between them. "Does she know?" He asked simply.

"Yeah, she knows. I guess we should look for her, hunh?"

"Yes."

She was waiting for them at the entrance. She must have come directly from the senator's office. She gave Mikey a kiss but wouldn't say a word to him.

"I'm surprised to see you." Jack said at last. "It's quite a crowd." He added by way of explanation. She just gave him a dirty look. "You hate football." He pushed, determined not to be ignored.

"I'm trying to be nice." She refused to look in his direction.

"Did Sally come?" Mikey interrupted before they could start fighting.

"No. She's spending the night with some friends." The last thing they agreed on was that Sally wasn't to know, not until later.

"I'm glad she's with friends." Mikey muttered. He hadn't seen her in over a week. Jack hadn't realized that the divorce would be so hard on him. He felt miserable and wondered, not for the first time just why did it have to be this way? What was so terrible about living with him anyway? He left to get some hamburgers and to distract himself from his black thoughts. There were several big guys in non-descript clothes and sunglasses scanning the crowds. Were they looking for that woman? He didn't see any sign of her. Mikey was standing by himself by the field carrying on a conversation with no one in particular. Mikey stopped, sensing eyes on him and turned around looking right at Jack before scanning the crowd too. Finally his attention turned back to the field, waiting for his friends to come out. Jack remembered how, when Mikey was a little boy he'd stand by the gate and wait for Jake to come over. They had been friends since Kindergarten at least, going to the same schools and spending as much of the summer together as they could. Now watching his son lean against the fence Jack couldn't shake the feeling that he was staring at an entirely different man.

#

It had been a great game even though Roosevelt's team won. "Home field advantage." Dr. O'Malley dismissed their victory. Sam didn't feel like celebrating and no one asked any questions when he asked to go home.

"Can I call Sally?" he asked Mrs. O'Malley before she left. There had been no sign of Cynthia and he was worried. What if she had decided to get at him through others? It was unnerving.

"I don't have her friend's number on me. I'll have her call you tomorrow when she gets back." Mrs. O'Malley smiled.

"I'm worried about her. Can you please call her as soon as you get home? Just make sure she's alright."

"There's nothing to worry about. I wish that senator hadn't sent her investigator to you. There was no reason to alarm you like that." Her eyes flashed.

"Just… Please. It's important." Besides it wasn't asking that much.

"Alright! Calm down Michael before you have a seizure!"

As for that topic Sam had had enough. "That comment was completely uncalled for. Neither excitement nor distress has yet to be a contributing factor to any of my seizures so far." Sam remembered that from his conversation with Michael's doctors while he was still in the hospital. "I'm also mature enough to care about my sister and answer questions from an investigator who was only concerned about my personal safety. No one has told me anything exceptionally alarming, but I do find your lack of concern for your own daughter to be rather alarming and I am sick and tired of people throwing seizures in my face in a blatant attempt to control me!"

What ever response Mrs. O'Malley would have made was cut off by Dr. O'Malley's arrival. "He's right, you know, on both counts. You don't worry about Sally enough and you did try to control him just now by threatening him with a seizure." He smiled at her a smile with absolutely no warmth.

"I would never do anything to give Mikey a seizure!" She had completely missed the point.

"When you get home, after you have humored your son's request, you will email me the phone numbers of all of Sally's friends, and from now on I am to have the contact info for all of Sally's new friends as soon as she gives it to you."

"Don't tell me what to do."

"I know you've just had the day from hell, so I'll cut you a little slack. If I don't get that email tonight, I'll wait until my lawyer gets to his office before I call." O'Malley smiled again. "Hear from you soon." He said by way of goodbye and then putting his arm around Sam's shoulders they left.

#

Al thought vile, black thoughts as he stared at his personal computer. The screen blinked, then flashed at him: 'Critical failure. Shutting down'. Then good to its threat the screen went blank. Al swore an old sailor's curse.

"Ziggy!" He finally shouted. "What's the meaning of this?"

Ziggy didn't answer. Al slammed his palm down on the intercom button. "Gooshie! What the hell's wrong with Ziggy?"

There was not even static in response, with another curse Al realized that the communications net was tied into Ziggy. The super computer herself had to be down then.

"You are going to raise hell itself if you keep that up." Donna, whose office was right next to his, was at his door. "I hope you saved whatever it was you were working on." She continued.

Al was not in the mood to be chastised or lectured, but he recognized that Donna was not the source of his problems and didn't deserve to be cussed out. "What brings you here?" He snapped instead, glowering at his treacherous monitor.

"I heard an old sailor's distress signal." She smiled at him. Al found himself laughing at her joke in spite of his temper. "How about we head upstairs for some dinner and let the computer techs handle this problem?" She offered her hand as if the invitation needed backup.

"Alright, sounds good to me." Al finally accepted, giving his desk a final slap. It might have been stretching the truth a little bit. No one really liked the cafeteria food, though the argument could be made that it no longer tasted as bad as it used to. Al knew several Navy cooks who could make better meals in their sleep. "One condition though," he said as they headed for the elevators. "I'm cooking."

Donna just smiled.

Al's Italian grandmother would have been scandalized by the quality of ingredients available, but the spaghetti was better than anything found in a jar. Several people had joined them. With the computers down there wasn't much the average scientist could do, or a shrink for that matter. Verbena smiled brightly as she complemented his cooking. "It smells divine!"

The tables were set, someone tossed a salad while someone else was slicing a loaf of bread. Donna brought out a bottle of wine. This was better by far. Al allowed himself a moment to feel sorry for the techs who were missing out on a splendid meal. Then he dumped the pasta into a large bowl, poured the sauce over the top and called out, "Spaghetti for everyone!" as he brought the bowl to the table.

Al's cooking was a raving success. The junior members drew lots to see who was stuck with the dishes. Cheers, jokes and roars of laughter greeted the losers as they marched off to the kitchen with the dirty dishes from the table, someone played the opening bars of a funeral march to more laughter before switching to dance music. The spaghetti dinner was turning into a party.

"Care to dance with an old sailor?" Al asked Donna, "I promise not to step on your toes more than three times." He laid his right hand on his heart as if taking a solemn vow.

Donna laughed. "Only if you don't mind my stepping on your toes." She accepted his offered hand and together they moved to the center of the room. Donna was an excellent dance partner, and if her smile was anything to go by she was having the time of her life. His earlier frustrations with the computer had been completely forgotten when Tina tapped Donna on the shoulder. "Mind if I cut in?"

"Later sailor." Donna grinned and found someone else to dance with.

"A word, Admiral?" That was Tina's code for 'get ready for very bad news.' They headed for the elevator. "Ziggy's been hacked. She shut down before the hackers could get much information but now we're having problems rebooting her. We've isolated the compromised areas, but she still won't come online."

Al thought of little girls and scary monsters hiding in closets. "Is the direct link to Ziggy still active in Sam's office?" He meant Sam's lower office, the one connected to the lab where Ziggy was created.

"Yes."

"Good. Go back up and bring Verbena there. I'll wait for you." He got off the elevator then turned around to face Tina. "Don't tell anyone else about this." He warned her as the doors were closing.

"Of course." Tina assured him, probably thinking of the general panic the news would cause. Ziggy had never been hacked before; no one thought it was possible.

"Well, there's always a first time." Al reminded himself grimly. He headed down the hall towards Sam's office. Very few people came down here now. Once Ziggy's initial programming had been completed most of the offices had been abandoned. Someone had thrown sheets over the furniture. Al pulled them off and dumped them in a corner. Sam's desk was an average, nondescript design with a standard computer interface built in. Several monitors had been built into the opposite wall, now covered with sheets as well. Al pulled those off too and then sat in Sam's high backed chair. He turned on the computer interface when he heard Tina's high heels clattering down the hall.

"Come on Ziggy," he coaxed soothingly. "It's safe to come out now."

"No, it's not." Ziggy's voice answered back from the speakers on the desk, not the usual speakers built into the walls. Ziggy had isolated herself deep in her original circuits.

"She sounds terrified." Verbena observed, helping herself to a chair next to Sam's desk. Tina took the remaining chair and pulled the keyboard towards herself.

"You do feel safe here, don't you Ziggy?" Al asked, ignoring the women. There was a noticeable pause before Ziggy answered. "Yes."

"Why do you feel safe here?" Verbena asked, taking her cue from Al's approach.

"I have broken the connection from here to the outside." The hybrid computer answered.

"We've isolated the compromised areas. The outside is now safe." Tina spoke up. She was using the keyboard to look up Gooshie's progress in reestablishing Ziggy's link with the rest of the project and the outside world.

"But the attackers might try again!" Ziggy's voice became shrill. Verbena looked thoughtful a moment. Ziggy was reacting to the hackers' invasion as if it were a personal assault.

"But Ziggy, didn't you fight them off successfully?" Verbena asked. Al watched the wall monitors, they were all dark save the one in the center which was filled with the computer code that Tina was reviewing. As Verbena spoke the screens surrounding the central one blinked, and then began slowly cycling through a variety of colors, primarily cool blues and greens. But as Verbena encouraged the super-computer, reminding her of her courageous stand against her malicious attackers and how by shutting down the network she prevented them from doing any great harm, the colors switched more smoothly.

"You sent them packing!" Al chipped in his best 'at a girl' voice. "You slammed the door right on their blooming noses!"

"Scan completed." Tina announced as the computer-ese crawling up the center screen came to an end. "No significant damage. Ziggy's shut down protected vital programming. The programming controlling the Imaging Chamber will need to be rebooted. It should be up in an hour. We'll know exactly what information was compromised then."

"It really is safe to come out now." Verbena assured Ziggy.

"Really?" The voice didn't sound as hesitant as before and the colors on the screen started moving towards the warmer oranges and yellows.

"Really." Al assured her. There was a sound, like a cat clearing its throat that reverberated in the speakers in the ceiling and in all the speakers down the hall. Al imagined that sound echoing throughout the entire Project and grimaced.

"Sorry about that." Ziggy said in her normal, slightly snobbish voice. "All primary functions are back online." More computer-ese rolled up the screen. "All time travel programs are rebooting. Reacquiring signal…"

"You mean you lost track of Sam?" Al was momentarily alarmed.

"Yes Admiral, for 3.5 hours. Signal now reacquired. Dr. Beckett is currently in the O'Malley home."

"That's good." Al reassured himself as much as the computer. "Are communications back up?"

"Yes Admiral. The communications network is up and secure."

"Good. I have a call to make." And with that Al left for his office.

"Mark?" Al had called his old friend as soon as he reached his office. "How's things there? Did Cynthia turn up? How's our friend? Good. Our computer had just been hacked. It was down for over three hours. It might have been Cynthia. I won't get any reports until later. I just wanted you to know, keep your eyes peeled. Are you paying the O'Malley's a visit tonight? Could you pass a message for me? Tell him that Ziggy's keeping me busy tonight. Thanks Mark, you're a life saver." Al hung up and sagged into his chair with a sigh of relief which turned into a gasp of shock when he saw his monitor. There in large block letters were the words – TAG, YOU'RE IT!


	6. Chapter 5

**Wednesday, October 26, 2005**

Dr. O'Malley watched the stars overhead. Suddenly he wished he hadn't given up smoking, one of the many comforts of life he had given up in his futile attempt to save his marriage.

"Will you be ok?" His friend looked worried. Well, if he hadn't been scared half out of his mind he'd be worried too.

"Where is my son, my real son? Will I ever see him again?"

"You can't be sure that's not Mikey. This could simply be some new type of…"

"That's not Mikey."

"Jack, he hit his head in that accident really hard. It had been touch and go there for awhile. The doctors had said…"

"I _am_ a doctor dammit, and that is not my son!" He struggled to keep his voice down.

"You're not making sense. He looks like Mikey, he sounds like Mikey…"

"But he doesn't act like Mikey, he doesn't talk like Mikey, he doesn't move like Mikey, and these are not Mikey's brainwaves." He threw the report at his friend. "I've seen the EEG's before Rick. I got a printed copy from his specialist…" his voice cracked. "I never could figure out why anyone would want to kidnap my son, or why the government would go to so much trouble to prevent it. But it's not my son this woman was after; it's whoever is in my son's body." It sounded like a bad sci-fi story: 'Invasion of the Body Snatchers.' Jack O'Malley made a sour face and paced outside his door. He couldn't bring himself to go back in and face his son – whoever had taken the place of his son. "I used to think that maybe his behavior was just a delayed result of the accident. He was talking to me again; he hadn't looked at me as if… as if he would gladly trade my life for Jake's." He took a ragged breath. "So I asked him about it today after the game. The one thing he has never forgotten, never forgiven me for he knew nothing about. Worse, he thought Mindy was driving."

"That's what the police thought too. She was in the driver's seat, that's as far as she had gotten before passing out."

"But Jake was driving, even though he didn't have a license, because I asked him to take them home. I followed in my car, but I let him drive two drunken teenagers home in the pouring rain. I didn't think anything would happen and I was so angry at Mikey for drinking – and Mindy for getting him drunk."

"You can't blame yourself…"

"Yes, I can! What responsible adult lets an unlicensed teen drive two drunks in the dark of night in a torrential downpour? I lost my wife because of it, and I can't blame her either. If I could, I would leave me for that. Big Jake hasn't said two words to me since then."

"Jack." Rick paused, struggling for words. "You have to forgive yourself…"

"Now you sound like Jim."

"Maybe because he's right; how can you repair your relationship with Bernadette if you haven't repaired your relationship with yourself first?"

"That sounds like psycho-babble," he sneered.

Rick's retort was cut off by the approach of an unmarked car pulling up in front of the house. A thin man with a military crew cut stepped out of the car carrying a briefcase. He surveyed the scene taking in Jack's angry expression, the papers still scattered at Rick's feet including the complete EEG printout with the dark, erratic lines of off the scale electrical activity plainly visible in the streetlight.

"I've come at a bad time." He stated simply. "I can come back if you like?"

"Yes." Jack snapped.

"No," Rick said, "I was just leaving. Remember what I said Jack. You may not feel like taking my advice right now, but that doesn't change things between us. I'll see you tomorrow."

"See you then." Jack stated tightly, bending over to pick up the file Rick had brought him. When he stood up the thin man was still standing there. "What do you want?" he snapped, hoping to discourage him.

"Al sent me."

'Mikey' had mentioned an Al on the way to the game. Al was the one who had showed him the woman's picture and told him about the kidnapping attempt.

"Come in." Jack held the door open; maybe he would get some answers after all.

#

This was the day for bad news. Al wiped his face with his hands trying to rub away the headache he felt coming on. Shortly after getting Ziggy back online they discovered that the Visitor was missing as well. The Project's security was one of the many things that Ziggy had monitored – until she shut down in order to protect vital information from being hacked. After Verbena joined the dinner party in the cafeteria there was no one watching the Visitor, who had been sleeping soundly at the time. At first they thought he had just wandered off, but after searching the entire Project grounds and the abandoned mineshafts that they had yet to seal off without a single sign of him they realized that it wasn't a simple case of a lost and disoriented Visitor. Either he had run away, or they had taken him. With a curse Al realized that it was possible that Cynthia's sighting in D.C. may have been just a diversion tactic; that all along the Visitor may have been the target. With the Visitor gone Sam couldn't Leap. He was now trapped in the present and they could take him at their leisure. Al had called Diane right away, and Mark was already at the house with Sam. With the Imaging Chamber still down there was only one thing left that he could do. Al picked up the phone again.

"This is the Admiral. Get the jet ready."

#

"I want you to understand that this is a top secret project and that whatever you have discovered about it you cannot share with anyone. I must insist that secrecy be preserved."

They were seated at the kitchen table. Elizabeth was off visiting friends and 'Mikey' was up in his room finishing his homework. Jack and the government agent were alone.

"All I want is my son back." He sure as hell wasn't going to tell anyone. Bernadette would have him committed and take Mikey away from him – assuming they could get Mikey back.

The man gestured at the files, "May I have those sir?"

"You're confiscating my son's medical files?" Jack couldn't believe his ears. Part of him was worried. He had watch too many TV shows where the government made people who knew too much disappear. His hands shook as he handed the files over and he shoved them into his lap in order to hide the tremor.

"I have my orders sir."

"What is this top secret project about? How could it do this to my son?" he pointed a shaky finger at the file, not even looking at the anomalous readings.

"I honestly don't know sir, nor do I want to know."

"It's called Project Quantum Leap," his son's voice spoke from the doorway. "And I created it in order to observe time, but I never intended this. I didn't even believe that this was possible." 'Mikey' pulled up a chair and sat down, folding his arms across the table and resting his chin on his forearms – just like Mikey used to do all the time. Jack winced and looked away. The government man excused himself, closing the kitchen door behind him.

"You're talking about time travel?" He couldn't believe his ears.

"Yes."

"But that's not possible! Stable time travel that is, in order to have stable time travel the point of origin, or base, would have to be unaffected by even the most insignificant changes. Just observing an event could be considered a change." Dr. O'Malley pulled a sheet of paper closer to him, "It's simple math actually, you change any figure of your equation and the entire problem changes with it." He scribbled furiously. "Like this."

'Mikey' stared at him in shock, then took the paper and examined his figures. "So, in order for me to regain stability I would have to figure out what the new problem is?" he wrinkled his brow struggling to understand.

"You could never guess, every time you traveled through time the equation would change again and you would have to start all over from the beginning until you had changed time itself so much that your base, where the time machine is actually housed, became isolated from time itself."

The man in his son's body stared at him in shock. "How many Leaps would that take?"

"Allot, I assume. Allot of totally random changes until so much has changed that literally nothing is the same anymore."

"So I can never go home? I'll just keep on Leaping until my home is gone?" 'Mikey's' voice cracked and Jack's heart ached at the pain in his voice.

"I don't know. Only the base has to be isolated from change. It may be possible to do that without eliminating your home. If you built the machine, then you must exist in order for the machine to exist. In that sense nothing can change without wiping out the machine and eliminating all the changes you've made so far…"

"That would just create a paradox," 'Mikey' smiled, "I've been over that. I can't change anything that affects the Project without Leaping to the point of change in order to fix it. Whoever is in charge of these Leaps is protecting time from that kind of paradox."

Jack couldn't make up his mind what was more alarming, the fact that this man had actually faced this kind of problem, or the fact that his theory seemed correct and that the traveler had no control over his time traveling. The fact that he could instantly see what this time-specialist couldn't left him feeling queasy. "And what about my son? Where is he while you are here? What do you do to people you…" he stumbled for the right word. What on earth could he call it?

"Think of it as a visit from a harmless stranger. I have no idea what they do to the people I Leap into, just that my friends would never hurt them. We hadn't planned for these kinds of things and the rules keep Al from discussing it with me."

"Al?" The government man had mentioned Al too. "Is Al the one in charge?"

"Actually, I am." 'Mikey' smiled apologetically. "I was afraid of losing our funding so I decided to try it prematurely. I just couldn't pass up the opportunity and was convinced that they were going to shut us down. I had to do it." He had the decency at least not to say he was sorry. He clearly wasn't sorry in the slightest.

"You bastard! You endangered my son. Just because you wanted to satisfy your curiosity!" Jack spluttered to a stop, finally realizing what the man had said. "You didn't realize that you would be physically in the past, did you?"

"I was supposed to be a hologram which no one would see." This time the apology was sincere. "I honestly never thought anything else was even possible. I am sorry."

Jack sat back in his seat. He wondered how many other scientists rushed into their experiments only to discover too late that the unthinkable was not only possible, but the only possible outcome. "Obviously you didn't think about it carefully enough." He got up and walked to the sink, needing to do something with his hands. "Can you predict when Mikey will come back?"

"When I complete whatever it is I'm here to change."

"What is that; if I may ask?" Jack filled the sink with hot water and started washing dishes.

"I suspect it is fixing your marriage with your wife." The man didn't sound completely convinced.

Jack laughed harshly. "That isn't possible. Bernadette made that very clear the last time I suggested counseling. You would have to Leap into Jake before the accident and prevent that in order to fix this dead horse."

"Do you honestly believe that?"

"Remember what you said on the way to the game? How can you work with someone who refuses to work with you?"

"I remember. Why won't she work with you? Or are you refusing to work with her?"

"Perhaps a little bit of both." Jack admitted honestly. "I can't force her to forgive me for hurting you – Mikey I mean…" His voice faded off.

"Perhaps all you have to do is forgive yourself."

"That's easier said than done."

"Why don't you tell me what really happened that night?" The time traveler grabbed a towel and began drying the dishes, stacking them on the table to put away later.

"First tell me your name. I can't call you Mikey anymore."

"Call me Sam. It would be nice to be called by my name again." His voice sounded wistful. With a flash Jack realized that this man probably had given up everything for a very long time. Suddenly he wasn't quite as angry with him as he had been.

"Well Sam, it's a long story. Bernadette and I had been fighting over the kids, Mikey's girlfriend, everything. Mikey snuck out of the house while we were… distracted." He cleared his throat. The memory was still painful. "The first I had heard of it was when Mr. Jackson called. His son had come back from some party high and said that Mikey had been there, Jackson blamed Mikey for his son getting high – not for selling the drugs, but for not calling him and tattling. I went to the party to bring Mikey home. The police were already there, but Mikey wasn't, either he hadn't been too drunk to notice the cops coming or he had left long before they showed up. I called Jake to ask for his help in finding Mike…" his voice failed him completely.

"It was Jake who helped you bring them home. Who was driving?" Sam didn't miss much.

Jack set the dishrag down and braced his arms on the sink bending over and burying his face in his arms – much like what Sam had done at the kitchen table. "I told Jake to drive them home. Mindy had taken her mother's car." He paused to take a deep breath. "I was mad at Mikey, and he started yelling at me over the fight I had with Bernadette. I nearly hit him." Another ragged breath. "Jake stood between us and I ordered him to take Mindy's keys and take them home. That I would speak to him later, when he was sober. Mikey almost didn't wake up." Jack stood up again, drying his hands on a towel and started putting the dishes away. "Bernadette met me at the hospital and refused to speak to me. She filed for separation as soon as Mikey got out of the coma. When I accused her of interfering with Mikey's care a few weeks back we had another fight."

"That's when she filed for divorce?" Jack just nodded. "But didn't they tell you that it was Cynthia who tried to kidnap me?" Sam sounded genuinely alarmed.

"Eventually, but by then it was too late."

"It's never too late to apologize."

Jack quashed the impulse to yell at the man. "It was inevitable." He said finally.

"I doubt that very much. I spoke to Mrs. O'Malley before coming down. I promised not to tell you exactly what it was we discussed, but I doubt very much she had intended to divorce you all along, or that things are as bleak as you paint them."

His voice was so very gentle, his son's voice, but his son would never say those things. The last words his son shared with him on the topic made it very clear he blamed Jack for everything. "Now you tell me something," he quickly changed the subject, "who's Al?"

"My friend." Sam answered simply allowing both subjects to die. "Goodnight Dr. O'Malley. And I would take it as a personal favor if you didn't mention anything. I know I'm asking for allot…"

"You're damn straight about that." Jack snapped, suddenly very angry again. He understood what was expected of him. In order to keep Bernadette from finding out and taking his son away from him he would have to pretend that the man who had taken his son was Mikey.

"I see." Sam's voice was heavy with emotion. "For what it's worth I am sorry."

"It's not worth much right now."

Sam left without another word.

#

Tina had called him shortly before he got on the plane. The reports were finally in, the hackers had done more damage than they had originally realized. They were gathered now in one of the conference rooms going over the reports.

"We figure Cynthia planted the trojans when we were modifying Ziggy's program. Her security programs were the most vulnerable then as we had bypassed most of them in order to …"

"Get to the point; I have a plane waiting for me." Al snapped not really angry, but his patience was growing shorter by the second.

Gooshie was the picture of misery, "The trojans had very complex programs piggy backing on them and they copied all of Ziggy's files dealing with the time machine then erased themselves. I can't find any trace of them, but the copied files were hidden in a low security area of Ziggy making it possible for the hackers to retrieve them."

"You mean to say that they have all the information they need to build a copy of Ziggy?"

"Including information on her biological components," Gooshie added apologetically.

Al's headache turned into a migraine. He sighed and buried his face in his hands. "Did they copy the specs on the machine itself?" There was a pause, Al raised his head and glared at the head programmer.

"Yes," he answered finally, "as far as we can tell."

"In other words, you don't know."

"We think it was part of the hackers' download, we're having a hard time telling exactly; however, we have been tracing them."

"You can trace the hackers?" Al was surprised.

"Yes." Gooshie was confident. "It originated in D.C."

"Cynthia." Al was certain. "What else was copied?"

"Several files pertaining to this Leap; they know where Sam is, they know all about Michael and his family. Everything we have been able to find, all our research. Everything." Gooshie was miserable again.

Al sympathized. "You believe there was more than one hacker? Why?"

It was Tina who answered, "The programs piggy backing on the trojans were extremely complex to seek out only certain information and then hide the files in a specific area before deleting themselves completely they had to be very well written, however the hacker who retrieved them was very clumsy, setting off Ziggy's security programs and leaving a trail that we had no problems picking up and following – no real problems at any rate."

That was very interesting, very interesting indeed. "Really?"

"Yes, really. It could only be the result of two different people." Tina popped a bubble disdainfully and Donna turned her head to hide her frown.

"Are you sure it wasn't a case of this hacker wanting us to follow the trail?"

"You think it's a trap?" Donna asked, wide eyed.

"Anything is possible. Cynthia has made no secret of her low opinion of us." Al answered wondering if he was just being paranoid.

"Maybe she feels she didn't need to hide her trail." Verbena pointed out.

Al only grunted. They, if Cynthia really had accomplices, had copies of Ziggy's program, copies of the building specs for the time machine, copies of all their records on this Leap… "Do they have the EEG readings Ziggy was analyzing?" When Sam first Leaped into Michael the young man was attached to an EEG machine for the first time giving them a complete picture of a Leap. Al was surprised to discover that the Leaps themselves had been recorded by the EEG, well actually, that hadn't surprised him, what did surprise him was that the readings were not the same. They had sent some of their team members to the hospital to check out their EEG machine and ruled out the differences being due to the machine itself. Ziggy was analyzing the differences in hopes of finding something they could use to bring him home.

"Yes, they got those too."

Al swore.


	7. Chapter 6

**Thursday, October 27, 2005**

**6:25 am**

There was a knock on the bedroom door.

"Come in." Sam paused in the act of stuffing the rest of Mikey's Math homework into his backpack.

"Are you decent?" a woman's voice called from the hall.

"Yeah," Sam opened the door, "What is it?"

Mikey's Aunt Elizabeth stood just outside the door holding Marta in her arms. "That must have been some fight you had with your father last night. He left as soon as I came home around midnight without saying a word to me and hasn't come back. Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really." The person he really wanted to talk to was Al, but Mark told him last night that Ziggy was giving him some problems and that it might be awhile before he could see Al. Sam sighed.

"Can you find it in your heart to forgive your father? He means well…"

"That's not the problem." Sam jumped in. "I have to get ready for school," he added lamely.

Elizabeth looked at Mikey's desk. The figures Dr. O'Malley had scribbled to illustrate his theory lay in plain sight on top of a stack of books.

"What's this? Geometry?" she pulled the papers closer to her.

"It's just something Dad scribbled down last night." Sam had left it on the desk in hopes that Al would be able to visit him before he had to leave. He wanted to run the O'Malley Theory passed Ziggy.

"Was this what you two were fighting over?" she raised an eyebrow at him.

"Not really…" it wasn't really a fight, was it?

"That's a 'yes, but I don't want to talk about it'." Elizabeth was very observant.

Sam held his tongue and kept his eyes on the dog so that he wouldn't have to look at Mikey's aunt. Even the dog seemed to rebuke the attempted evasion as pathetic.

"Mikey," her voice was very gentle, "Mikey, look at me."

Sam raised his eyes, resolving to take whatever rebuke she dished out in silence.

"Your father loves you. You do understand that, don't you?" Sam just nodded. "Then tell me what is wrong?"

"I can't," he answered helplessly. "I have to go." He grabbed the papers and left the house feeling as if he was wasting an opportunity to repair Mikey's relationship with his father, but he couldn't fix Mikey's problems like this, only Mikey could. What was the point of this Leap after all?

"Are you ready?" Mark was waiting for him, leaning up against the side of his car. "I'm supposed to take you to school and keep an eye on you," he opened the passenger door for Sam. "You ok?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine." Sam wasn't convinced himself. He had spent a sleepless night going over Dr. O'Malley's figures and reviewing as much of the retrieval program as he could remember and also Donna's proposal. There was something about the woman he met in his last Leap that he couldn't remember and it kept him distracted throughout the night. "Any word from Al?" he asked as Mark got into the car.

"Not yet. I'm expecting him to call later on."

"Is he still having problems with Ziggy?"

"He hasn't said."

Sam kept his eyes on the road and tried to distract himself by reviewing Mikey's schedule for the day. He had a test first period and was supposed to meet with Mindy to get the Math assignments Mr. Jackson handed out yesterday. The test was on American History. He had forgotten to review Mikey's textbook and didn't think he would have the time now. He sighed, chastising himself under his breath.

"What was that?" Mark asked.

"I forgot to study for my History test." on top of so many other things.

Mark actually laughed. "I'm sure you'll do alright, haven't you been doing your assignments?"

"Some, but I really needed to review the chapter. I missed the first part and haven't found the time to go over it yet."

"Why don't we do that now? We've got time."

"I'm supposed to meet Mindy to collect my Math assignments from yesterday."

"I can get those for you while you take your test. What's the teacher's name?"

"Mr. Jackson."

"Not a problem." Mark turned into the school parking lot. "Let's get cracking on that History homework." Sam dug out the textbook and turned to the chapter he had marked the previous morning.

#

Al entered the small office not sure of what he was looking for. Hopefully he'd know it when he saw it. The first thing he noticed was that the desk was a mess with stacks of papers everywhere. There were no books, no personal photos or certificates of personal achievement. The office was completely devoid of personality. If it hadn't been for the plaque with Cynthia Marley's name on it he would've had no clue as to whom the office belonged to.

"Are you satisfied?" Weitzman's aide snapped. The long working relationship she had with the senator had allowed some of his hostile personality to rub off onto her. "There is nothing here; we've already looked."

"Were you the ones to make this mess?" Al gestured at the desk.

"We disturbed nothing."

Which meant that they hadn't looked very closely. Al sat down behind the desk and began going through the papers. Most of them were declassified reports on Project Quantum Leap, a few memos on various other projects that Weitzman was involved in. She had been keeping an eye on the senator.

"Did you see this stuff?" Al handed her one of the memos attached to a copy of an email Weitzman had sent someone detailing Sam's most recent Leap. Some of the information in the email was still classified and Al wasn't at all happy to see it. Emails had a nasty tendency to be far less secure than people assumed.

"No." The aide took the papers and read them through carefully. "I'll have to talk to the Senator. Ms. Marley wasn't supposed to have access to this."

"She hacked a black project computer; you think a common email encryption is going to give her any problems?" Al's voice was harsh. These people took far too much for granted and now Sam's life was in jeopardy because of it.

"We didn't think about that sir." She at least had the grace to be embarrassed.

"This is the post 9-11 world miss. You should think about these things!" Al checked himself before launching into a tirade; it was Weitzman he was angry with, not the young aide before him. "I realize that you are not responsible for your boss' sloppiness, but you need to understand. We can't afford to make assumptions. We're dealing with very dangerous people who have hacked into the best computers the government has and kidnapped a sick kid." Al shuddered to think of what would happen when Mikey didn't get his medicine. "We have 12 hours left to find him, Ms. Garcia, 12 hours and next to no leads. That's not a lot of time." The first time Sam Leaped into Mikey the medicine the hospital gave Sam also affected Mikey, and Mikey's seizures affected Sam. This second time though, that hadn't been the case. The Leap still caused Mikey to have a seizure. He had several while in the Waiting Room, but Sam remained unaffected. Without his medication Mikey would start to go into withdrawals and would need to be hospitalized. There was not a snowball's chance in hell his kidnappers would be willing to do that. Without his medicine Mikey could die. And if Mikey, in Sam's place died, what would happen to Sam?

**7:45 am**

Sam took the note someone had stuffed into his locker vent and shoved it into his pocket. It was probably from Mindy wondering where he had been that morning. He shoved the history textbook onto the locker shelf and pulled out his English book. As much as he enjoyed English lit he intensely disliked literature textbooks. They tended to be very heavy and extremely dull. His eyes were already heavy with lack of sleep. He put the textbook in his bag next to the laptop and zipped it closed then shut his locker door.

"Where were you this morning?" Mindy appeared from out of nowhere, if looks could kill Sam would have died on the spot.

"Studying for my History test." Sam was too tired to argue with her. He just wanted to get to his next class and close his eyes for a few minutes.

"We could have done that together." She stepped closer, attempting to trap him next to his locker. Sam assumed she was trying to be seductive. He could smell the liquor on her breath.

"You've been drinking." He was grateful for the distraction, but also felt guilty about it. It wasn't that he disliked Mindy, he just didn't like the way she treated Mikey, and by extension, him.

"It was only a sip! It's nothing," she insisted defensively. "It's none of your business if I take a sip between classes. It helps my nerves."

"You promised to stop drinking. We had an agreement." Sam insisted, not willing to give her an inch.

"I wasn't drinking, only sipping. I'm not drunk! I've kept our bargain." She sounded deeply hurt but Sam suspected that it was mainly an act to make Mikey feel guilty. Only Sam wasn't Mikey and he wasn't buying the act.

"It doesn't matter if it was a sip or a gulp, it was a drink and you drank it. You promised not to drink anymore – that includes sipping. You don't need alcohol to calm your nerves."

"Don't tell me what I need, you're not my grandfather! Don't get all Baptist on me!"

Sam just stared at her, too tired to make sense of her tirade. Was she really angry this time, or was she still trying to manipulate him?

"Well, aren't you going to apologize?" she demanded, one hand on her hip.

Sam decided she was still acting. "No. I'm not the one who broke the agreement. I don't owe you anything."

Mindy stared at him opened mouth for a heartbeat in what seemed like genuine shock before slapping him and stalking away.

"Good riddance." a voice muttered from beside him. For a second Sam thought it was Al, but when he turned he saw it was the young man whose locker was next to his. "It's about time you took my advice about her. She's nothing but bad news." Even though they had several classes in common he still didn't know the young man's name.

Sam was inclined to agree. "Yeah, but a bargain is a bargain."

"Man, you don't owe her anything. She as good as murdered your best friend and you should dump her like the bad news she is."

"I don't remember the accident very well, but I do remember that Jake was driving."

"She was the one who grabbed the wheel. Maybe you never noticed, but she bragged about it later the next time she got drunk. She practically killed your best friend, nearly killed you and still has you wrapped around her little finger." the young man slammed his locker shut and turned to face Sam. "I know you still have feelings for her, but really, despite having one of the best bodies in school she isn't worth it. You haven't known me very long, but I've known her since before her folks split. She's always been a manipulative little minx and you're better off without her. I doubt very much that she will ever change."

"I can at least give her the opportunity."

"Look who's talking. You should give your dad the opportunity and Mindy the cold shoulder."

What could Sam say to that? He happened to agree, but he knew Mikey didn't. The bell spared him from answering. He grabbed his bag with a grimace and turned to go.

"At least think about it." the young man insisted, following him down the hall.

"I will, trust me I will." But would Mikey?

**10 am**

Al chewed thoughtfully on his cigar while waiting for his plane to leave. It had been Diane's recommendation that they involve the FBI in order to use their resources to find the Visitor. He had been kidnapped after all, she pointed out. Al had been for keeping the investigation in house. Diane pointed out that computer techs and analysts were no substitute for trained investigators, then she reminded him that he did owe her one. But he didn't have to like it. He wondered briefly if Verbena's comment held any water. She had asked him if the reason for his objection was because he had no control over the FBI. He was accustomed to being in control, calling the shots and making all of the high level decisions ever since Sam stepped into the Accelerator. He had even resorted to some dirty tricks and broke nearly every rule in the books to stay in command. Verbena would point out that the only time Al had ever kept a rule was when he thought he would profit from it.

But that wasn't a fair observation, the whole point was to bring Sam home safe and sound and he didn't trust anyone else to have Sam's best interests at heart. The sole source of his discomfort in involving the feds was that for 10 years he had kept this project a complete secret, now for the first time he had to bring outsiders in. This wasn't like asking his friends at the Capitol for favors. There he would tell them the bare minimum of what they needed to know in order to get him what he wanted. Sometimes what they needed to know bore no resemblance to the truth. The best knew better than to ask. These investigators needed to know all the details of the case, exactly what and who was taken and from where. Without all of the information they wouldn't be able to form any theories regarding motive, without a reasonable motive they couldn't establish a list of suspects. It was all educated guesswork, and ever since the hacker's trail Ziggy had been following dried up all they had left was guesswork.

Al couldn't shake the uncomfortable feeling that the more people who knew about the project, the greater their difficulties would be in bringing Sam home. It used to be he could count on his two hands the number of people who knew about the project – the real project. Now that number was escalating at a terrifying pace. Most of these new people were complete strangers to him. It made him nervous, and being nervous made him cranky. He hadn't slept in two days; he hadn't been able to contact Sam in almost the same amount of time. He'd dealt with a computer crash, hackers, kidnappers and treacherous council members. Al was about ready to explode. Diane recommended that he go home, the Imaging Chamber was expected to be online soon and it would do him some good to see Sam. He had been tempted to see him while in D.C. but he had no idea what that would do. The Sam here was an hour into his future, that thought gave him a queasy feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Diane had been right though. Not three hours after turning the investigation over to the feds they had gone over Cynthia's office with a fine tooth comb, subpoenaed emails (using the one he found as probable cause) and records including computer records and financial transactions. They found she had received large deposits over the past several years from different overseas organizations. The deposits were never made by the same organization twice, but always on the same day. So far all their attempts to trace where the money came from had been harder than tracking Alice's white rabbit. It was as if every one of those organizations appeared out of thin air for the sole purpose of depositing the money and vanished back from whence it came without a single trace of where the money had come from. For some reason Al wasn't surprised at all. Tracking the hacker's programs had given him the same type of headache. It was one he now shared with numerous FBI agents.

**12:15 pm**

Sam sat at Mikey's usual table and stared at his walking taco, wondering if they could possibly pour anymore grease in it.

"It tastes better if you actually eat it." One of his table mates spoke up helpfully, a girl named Samantha. She smiled down the table at him, eyes sparkling.

"Yeah, especially if you don't wait so long that it gets cold." the girl sitting next to Samantha giggled.

Sam sighed, picked up his fork and started eating.

"Hey Mikey, come sit by me! I need to talk to you." Sam recognized the voice and wondered if he pretended not to hear if she would take the hint and go away.

"Mikey!"

He forked more noxious stuff into his mouth and chewed meticulously.

"Mikey, you're girlfriend wants to talk to you." Samantha's friend pointed out. Sam glared at her briefly then tried another bite of taco.

"Mikey. I know you can hear me." Mindy evidently gave up shouting across the cafeteria and tried the direct route, standing behind his chair and tapping him on the shoulder.

Sam wiped his mouth while trying to think up an excuse. "Sorry," he said plainly, trying not to sound too unapologetic. "I was busy eating."

"I was thinking about what happened earlier today and I decided we got off on the wrong foot." Sam just looked at her. "Well, if you hadn't accused me of drinking I would never have slapped you."

He wondered if he was being treated to an 'I'm sorry, but it's really your fault anyway' speech. "I don't think I'm really interested in hearing this," he began. "We made an agreement and you violated it, then you got angry at me for pointing out that you violated the agreement, and now it sounds as if you're blaming me for your problems. I'm not interested in accepting the blame for your drinking or your temper. It appears to me that we have nothing more to say."

"You can't mean that. Mikey, think of what we had..."

"I'd rather think about what we have right now, lunch, which I intend to eat." he attempted to return to his meal.

Mindy's grip on his shoulder tightened and she nearly shrieked at him. "Don't ignore me. I didn't mean to hurt you – you have to accept my apology!"

"Why 'have to'?" Sam spoke keeping his tone carefully neutral.

"Well, because…" she spluttered briefly before recovering, "Because it's the Christian thing to do."

"Turn the other cheek and all that?" he asked.

"Yeah, exactly!" Mindy smiled.

Sam turned his other cheek, the one she hadn't slapped that morning, then pointed at it. "Here you go. Take your best shot." She just stared at him uncomprehendingly. "Turning the other cheek doesn't mean accepting responsibility for someone else's failures. It only requires us to be charitable towards others. I was charitable with you, even if you don't believe that. Instead of breaking up with you earlier because of your drinking problem and obsessive behavior I agreed to give you a second chance if you met certain goals. You failed. Now it's time to move on."

"You can't mean that." Mindy was stunned.

"Yes, I can." Sam turned back to his lunch which, if anything, looked even more unappetizing then before.

"This is because of what Frankie has been saying about me lately, isn't it?" Sam didn't have the first clue what she was talking about and decided not to encourage her by saying so. "Its lies, all lies!" her voice shook with anger, either real of feigned, Sam no longer cared. "I didn't kill Jake." her nails bit into his shoulder. Sam stood up abruptly and dumped his lunch in the trash before leaving the cafeteria heading for the main office hoping that would discourage Mindy from following. It didn't. "You can't take his word over mine, I'm your girlfriend!"

"No, you are not. What's more you haven't been for a while now. We were simply supposed to be just friends while you worked on your problems."

"That's not true! How could you mean that? It's cruel. I depended on you, on your support..."

"And now you have to learn to depend on yourself. Start by accepting responsibility for your own actions. You blew it this morning when you 'sipped'. You broke the agreement and I'm not going to pretend that you didn't and let you get away with it." Sam stopped in front of the office door, noticing Mark following them at a discrete distance.

"The agreement says nothing about sipping." Mindy tried to argue.

Sam just stared at her. "We've already been over this, it's why you slapped me remember?"

"If you hadn't…"

Sam cut her off. "Enough. If you want to continue this discussion then it will be with Fr. Jim." he held the door open wide. Mindy looked at first like she would refuse, then ducked under his arm and marched up to the receptionist desk doubtlessly expecting him to follow. Sam shut the door and quickly dived into the men's room. Mark followed chuckling.

"Very original move," Mark spoke up once the men's room door shut behind him, "hiding from a woman in the men's room."

"Who are you hiding from this time Sam?" Al stood in front of the mirror and shivered when he saw Mikey's reflection where his was supposed to be. "I've Leaped again!" he leaned forward to get a closer look. With a grin Sam matched the movements so that Mikey's reflection leaned too. "Sam, I really have Leaped!" Al jumped, but Sam didn't, he was laughing too hard. "Oh, that was cute Sam, very cute." Al glared at him, "I hope you enjoyed that."

"You should have seen the look on your face." Sam gasped between guffaws.

Mark just looked baffled. "What look?" Sam laughed even harder.

"I think I should call him, just a sec. Sam I'll be right back." Al stepped through the Door and added, "I'll come back when you're no longer in the men's room."

"That might be awhile." Sam wiped tears from his face as the Door shut behind the observer.

"What might be awhile?" Mark asked.

"It might be awhile before I leave this restroom. You don't honestly think Mindy stayed in the office to speak to the principal, do you?"

"I doubt it," Mark grinned. "I don't think she is going to give up that easily."

Sam sighed, "I can always hope." Stepping back up to the sink Sam washed off the grease from his lunch, as always fascinated by the unfamiliar reflection mimicking his every move. Mikey was a handsome young man, athletic with a deep tan and sun bleached hair. Even his green eyes seemed faded by too much exposure to the sun. With another sigh Sam turned back to Mark, "I guess it would be better if I faced the music now."

"It could be. You could always claim you wanted to wash up before talking to Fr. Jim."

Sam just nodded then opened the door and walked right into Mindy.

"What are you doing?" she snapped.

"What are _you_ doing?" he countered, refusing to fall prey to her games.

"Waiting for you."

"By standing in the doorway of the men's room?" he pointed at her feet which were on the threshold. She had to have been standing right up against the door, probably trying to eavesdrop.

Mindy blushed, "Well _you_ did disappear rather suddenly. You should have told me you were going to the bathroom."

"I don't have to ask your permission to answer the call of nature, and that doesn't justify eavesdropping on the men's room door."

"I wasn't eavesdropping! I was concerned."

Sam mentally rebuked himself. Making accusations, no matter how well founded, wasn't going to help him. Keeping his face carefully neutral Sam suggested Mindy step aside and stop blocking the doorway. Then, without waiting to see if she followed or not, he headed back to the office.

Fr. Jim was out, but Mindy's counselor called them over to her office.

"Please take a seat," she began, "How can I help you?"

Sam waited for Mindy to sit, then pulled his chair far enough away from hers that she would not be able to hurt his shoulder anymore. He noticed the sign on the desk with the counselor's name on it: Ms. Sanchez.

"He's breaking up with me." Mindy burst into tears.

Sam was unimpressed and noticed that Ms. Sanchez appeared to be equally unmoved. They both quietly waited for Mindy to finish crying and dry her eyes.

"Were you drinking?" the counselor asked.

"No!" Mindy sniffed, then seeing Sam's face out of the corner of her eye, she qualified; "It wasn't a proper drink, just a sip!"

"What was it?"

"A sip I said!"

"A sip of what? Water?"

"No."

"Mountain Dew?"

"No."

"What then?"

"Vodka."

"Alcohol?"

"Vodka." A little light was dawning behind Mindy's eyes. She wasn't going to get any sympathy here either and it was plain from her face that the revelation angered her.

"What did your agreement say about consuming alcohol?" Ms. Sanchez pressed.

"That I was not to drink any."

"How much?"

"Not any."

"How much is a sip?" the counselor asked patiently.

"A sip?"

"Yes, a sip. How much is a sip?"

"A small amount."

"How small?" Ms. Sanchez pressed harder.

"A negligible amount. I can't get drunk on a sip."

"Show me how large a sip is." Ms. Sanchez pulled out a flask and offered it to Mindy. "Just like you did this morning."

Mindy took the flask and shook it. Sam could hear the contents slosh inside. A slight grin stole across Mindy's face as she took a large gulp from the flask. The smile vanished abruptly then she spat the contents onto the counselor's hard floor.

"Water!"

Sam looked at the substantial puddle at the girl's feet, so did the counselor.

"Clean that up." Sanchez directed, handing Mindy a paper towel. It took several paper towels to clean up the spill. "Now," the older woman pointed at the damp paper towels in Mindy's hands, "Is that a negligible amount?"

"No."

"What is it then?"

Mindy refused to answer.

"What does your agreement say about consuming alcohol?" Sanchez started over again.

"It was just a sip." Mindy insisted.

Ms. Sanchez fetched a clear plastic bowl from her desk drawer. "Squeeze those paper towels over this bowl." she ordered.

Mindy held the paper towels over the bowl and squeezed gently allowing only a small amount of the water to fall into the bowl.

"I know you can squeeze harder than that. Do you want Mikey to do it?"

"No." Mindy blurted then squeezed the towels dry. Over half an inch of liquid filled the bowl.

"Is that a small amount?" Ms. Sanchez asked calmly.

Mindy looked at the bowl for several long moments. "No." she finally answered, "it's not."

"How many sips did you have this morning?" Ms. Sanchez resumed, not finished with her yet.

"A sip."

"How many."

"A sip I said!"

"How many sips Mindy."

"I didn't count."

"More than one?"

"Yes; but they were small sips."

"Like that?" Ms. Sanchez pointed towards the bowl.

"Smaller."

"Really? How do you know? Did you measure them?"

"I'm not sure."

"You're not sure if you measured them?"

"No, I didn't measure them."

"So they could have been sips like that, couldn't they have been?"

"Yes."

"Do you remember why your agreement said that you couldn't consume alcohol?" Ms. Sanchez continued doggedly.

"So that I could go to the Winter Formal with Mikey."

"No, that was the reward for keeping the agreement. Why did the agreement state that you could not consume alcohol?"

"Because I got drunk." Mindy whispered.

"What was that? I couldn't hear you clearly." Ms. Sanchez insisted.

"I got drunk!" Mindy shouted.

"Only once?"

"No."

"How many times?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know how many times you got drunk?"

"No."

"Doesn't that concern you?"

Mindy just looked blankly at the counselor.

"It should concern you. Getting drunk is not good for you. Teenagers can get seriously hurt when they drink, some even die."

"I didn't die." Mindy snarled. "Jake did and he was sober. Being sober didn't save him, but I lived because I was stinking drunk."

"How did Jake die Mindy?"

Mindy stared at the floor and refused to answer, the water sloshing nearly out of the little bowl. Sam reached over and took the bowl away from Mindy.

"It's ok to answer." he encouraged.

"Jake was driving me home." They waited patiently for her to continue, finally giving her a little breathing room. "We went to a party after the football game, Mikey and I. He was on the team then and they won the game. I forget which one." She paused to take a ragged breath, "Mikey wasn't drinking so I spiked his coke. Then I decided I wanted to go someplace more fun," she looked up, "that party had too many chaperons and one of them discovered I was drinking. Mikey didn't like the second party though, so we left for another place I knew and I switched Mikey's drinks again, only this time he hadn't noticed. By the time his daddy found us Mikey was drunk and angry. You make an ugly drunk," she accused Sam, "You were absolutely no fun at all and Jake made you sit in the back, only I wasn't going to sit with you because you were so angry so I sat with Jake up front and a cat ran into the road and Jake wasn't going to miss it so I…" her voice faltered completely. "I'm so sorry. I never meant to hurt anyone I just didn't want the cat to get hit." She broke down into tears, and for the first time they were genuine tears of grief.


	8. Chapter 7, part 1

**Thursday, October 27, 2005**

**after 1 pm**

Donna absent mindedly stirred her coffee while looking over Ziggy's new figures. She couldn't believe how tired she was, but she was so close to figuring this out. As soon as Al and the rest found the Visitor Sam could Leap again. Ziggy believed that he would Leap further back into the past next time, like a leaper attached to a bungee cord. Their finances had become so tight over the years that Donna didn't think they could afford the energy expenditures to pull Sam back from his distant past. She had to solve this problem now, so that when the Visitor returned she could bring Sam home. Donna sighed and set the spoon down. If only her head would stop hurting she'd be able to think more clearly. She would be able to see what she was missing then.

"Burning the candle at both ends again honey?" Verbena surprised her causing her to jump and spill her coffee into her lap. It was cold. When did her coffee get cold?

"I didn't notice you come in." Donna took the paper towels her friend gave her and started cleaning herself up.

"I suspect you wouldn't have noticed a messenger from God, you were so lost in thought. When was the last time you slept? You look positively worn to a frazzle." Verbena gave Donna her most encouraging smile.

"I've lost track of time," Donna smiled at her weak joke, "I'm trying to make sense of these new figures."

"Is this the O'Malley Theory Al mentioned?"

"Yeah. Do you know who this Dr. O'Malley guy is? I've never heard of him before and I thought I'd read all the quantum physicists."

"Yes, you have heard about him; he is the Visitor's father." Verbena poured herself some tea and sat next to Donna at the conference table. "It seems that he got hold of the EEG's from when Sam Leaped into Michael the first time before Ziggy was able to replace them. He put the pieces together and confronted Sam last night. Al says that Sam was rather excited about the theory. He was up all night going over it and refining it."

"Ziggy is still crunching the numbers, but her preliminary findings are positive."

"But…" Verbena encouraged.

"How do you isolate any part of time from the rest of time? And just what would that do to us? Would we cease to exist? Or would our lives become significantly different? What about Sam? What would that do to Sam?"

"You mean, would you still be married to Sam if you isolate the Project from the rest of time?" Donna just nodded. "I don't know honey, but as Sam wrote Ziggy I suspect he is integral to her creation." Verbena patted her arm reassuringly.

"But I'm not."

"I see." Verbena set aside her tea and wrapped her arm around Donna's shoulders. "You are integral to Sam; he loves you more than life itself."

"Even when he remembered all the details of his life before, when he was stuck in that hospital bed, he didn't remember me."

"He didn't talk about you, that's not the same as not remembering you."

"What's the difference?" Donna quickly dried her eyes, angry with herself for crying.

"Dear heart, you can't expect a man to talk about the things that trouble him before he's ready. Men simply aren't women in long pants; they are unique creatures with their own way of approaching life."

"Men are from Mars and women are from Venus?" Donna almost smiled.

"That saying is truer than you know." Verbena handed her a tissue. "It's perfectly acceptable to cry dear. Your heart has been broken all these years and I've never seen you shed a tear once."

"I've been keeping myself preoccupied. If I can just figure this out, I can bring him home." There was a lot of hope in that word, home.

"You would be more successful at this if you allowed yourself time to rest." Verbena's tone was gentle, but the words sounded harsh to Donna's ears all the same.

"I can't rest. I've gotta solve this."

"Why can't you rest?"

"I have to solve this." Donna knew that wasn't what Verbena meant.

"What can you do before Ziggy is done compiling her report? Without her analysis what can anyone do to adapt this theory into something we can apply? What can you hope to achieve by burning yourself out pouring over complex figures while drooping with exhaustion?" Verbena was rarely so direct, or brutal. She usually left the harsher stuff to Al. With some surprise Donna realized that even though the two often seemed at odds they really did work well together. They were like opposite sides of the same coin.

"You sound like the Admiral." she tried to evade the question.

"I've been sparring with him too long to fall for that." Verbena's eyes twinkled, "Now honey, you need to sleep. Let the afternoon solve its own problems, you need to focus on yours."

"This is my problem." Donna insisted.

"Exhaustion is your problem. Not allowing yourself time to rest when you need it is your problem. Taking upon yourself other people's problems is your problem. But this O'Malley Theory, for right now, is Ziggy's problem. Now, go to bed. I'll wake you when Ziggy is done crunching the numbers."

"I can't sleep." Donna persisted, "I keep thinking that if I sleep Sam will Leap and we will never be able to bring him home."

"If you hadn't overloaded your system with all that caffeine you would be asleep right now." Verbena took her coffee cup away and poured the rest of the pot out. "When was the last time you slept anyway?"

"Before the Visitor was taken." Donna yawned while organizing the papers on the table, trying to see if putting the information in a different order would make more sense.

Verbena took the stack out of her hands, "You need to rest. I'm not giving up. There is nothing you can do right now. If you don't get at least an hour's sleep I'm going to have Ziggy gas you."

Donna just snorted, not believing her for a second. "Ziggy can only gas people in the Waiting Room, and I never go there."

"I wouldn't bet money on that, remember that mass murderer who managed to escape?"

"No." Donna blinked, as pieces slowly started falling into place. "Sit down please. Can you explain why it is that sometimes we remember different Leaps?"

Verbena sat, "I'm not sure what you mean."

"You remember the space chimp Leap, I don't. You remember the time Sam Leaped into the Literature professor at Lawrence College…"

"Dr. Bryant?" Verbena sounded cautious.

"Was it really Dr. Bryant?" Donna grew thoughtful, thinking of the man she had spent so much time with traveling from Lawrence to the hotel to meet her father. "I remember how surprised I was to hear Sam had Leaped into a professor from my old college, but I still don't know the details."

"He was there to extricate Dr. Bryant from a shotgun wedding." Al offered as he entered the room, coffee mug in hand. "No coffee?" he asked no one in particular.

"The water is still hot if you would like some tea." Verbena offered.

"No thanks." he shuddered. "I'll leave the tea drinking to you ladies." he set his mug in the sink and made for the door.

"Wait a minute!" Donna nearly shouted in her desperation. "What did he do? If he was supposed to avoid a shotgun wedding, what did he actually do?"

"He avoided the wedding." Al answered cautiously.

"How?" Donna was suddenly wide awake. Beside her Verbena's eyes widened and she might have cautiously shook her head. Donna flushed, "I'm not a baby. Please don't keep secrets from me."

"We don't want to hurt you." Verbena said in her most reasonable voice.

"It wasn't the Literature professor who took me to see my father, was it? It was Sam."

"Yes." Al still sounded cautious.

"That explains some things he said and the odd way he looked at me. It made my skin crawl at the time." She was silent for a moment before continuing, "I think you can shed light on something; it's very important." she pointed to a seat. "Why is it we remember different Leaps. I remember fewer than anyone else it seems. Verbena remembers some I'd swear never happened. You've told me about some, many of them I don't recall ever happening. Why is that, why the differences in our memories?"

Al hovered over the chair she had indicated, not really wanting to sit. He didn't want to have this conversation. "Donna, I never wanted to alarm you." he hesitated. "I didn't want to alarm anyone." This was a bad way to begin; he frantically searched for a better way to explain.

"Sometimes I'm not part of this time. I'm not always a part of Sam's life, am I?" Donna turned very pale.

Al hurried around the table and held her shoulders. "It's not quite like that," he hastily explained, "when Sam started Leaping he wasn't married to you." He paused, "You had stood him up at the altar." Al paused again, visibly struggling for words.

"After he fixed that was I always part of the project?" Donna asked bluntly.

"No." Al looked crestfallen.

"So there is no way to predict when I am here, and when I will not be?"

"Yes."

"Who else disappears?"

"Does it matter?"

"Yes. According to this theory," she pointed at the papers on the table, "we have to isolate the base from the rest of time in order to achieve stable time travel. It's not the changes outside the project that affect Sam's Leaps, but the changes within it." Al's face was impassive. Evidentially he had thought of this before. "In other words, the more things change here, the closer we are to getting Sam to come home."

"You do realize," Al nearly whispered, "that one of those changes may very well be you standing him up at the altar again."

"Yes. But if that was the way things were when he started Leaping wouldn't it constitute a greater change if I was still here when he got back?"

"Possibly."

"And if I wasn't, wouldn't he just Leap back to a time when he could bring me back into his life again?"

"Possibly." He didn't look happy about that prospect at all. With a twinge Donna realized that Leaping was hell on Al.

"But wouldn't his Leaping be stable then? After all, if…" she stammered to a halt. "Don't you believe it's possible at least?"

"Maybe. Look, Verbena is right. You should be getting some rest. When Ziggy is done analyzing the numbers I'll get you. We can talk then." Al left before Donna could say anything more.

Verbena patted her arm, "Let's get you to bed honey; you need your sleep more than Sam needs you to work on this theory. With the Visitor gone he can't Leap anyway. It's a good time to rest, let Ziggy work on the theory while you sleep. It's teamwork that will solve this problem and right now the team needs you to rest so that you can help when it is time."

Donna sighed; her sense of urgency abating for awhile, she let her friend lead her to bed.

* * *

Author's note: I'd like to thank everyone who took the time to review or drop me a note of encouragement. I do appreciate it though I rarely get an opportunity to respond as I'd like. I also I'd like to thank everyone for being so patient with me and my diminishing opportunities to write. I have recently been diagnosed with a serious illness, which though not expected to be fatal, is expected to devour most of my time for the foreseeable future. I will try harder to set aside some time every day for writing, but lately it seems to take longer to write less. Please bear with me.


	9. Chapter 7, part 2

Author's note: I'd like to thank Lorraine Anderson for writing this final chapter. As usual, all mistakes are entirely mine.

* * *

Chapter 7, part two Thursday, October 27, 2005

_after 3:30 pm_

"So," Mark said as Sam got into the car. "How was school? Pass your history test?"

"Yeah," Sam said. "I think so. Thanks for the help." He kept thinking about Mindy. She had disappeared after the session with the counselor. After the revelation about Mindy grabbing the wheel, the counselor had talked about contacting Mindy's guardian. When Mindy had vehemently argued against that, the counselor had talked about therapy.

That was when Mindy had rushed out of the office, slamming the door. Even though Sam had hurried after her, she had disappeared.

"Yeah," Mark said. "Something's wrong. Can you talk to me about it?"

It occurred to Sam that Mark hadn't indicated whether he knew what Project Quantum Leap was - so he had better be careful how he talked.

"My ex-girlfriend," he said shortly. "The one that caused me to be in that accident…"

Mark glanced at him. "You mean, Mikey's ex-girlfriend, correct?"

Sam raised his eyebrows. "You know?"

"I have the proper clearance, and I've reported to Senator McBride. She knew I was discrete and I have the proper security level, and she briefed me." He looked wistful. "I knew Al was into something interesting, I just didn't know what, Dr. Beckett."

"Need to know, I suppose," Sam sighed. "Call me Sam."

"Sam. That's why I'm guarding you, and not a subordinate."

"Who guards the guardian?" There was a hint of a smile on Sam's face.

"There's a few of my people around here discretely." Mark returned the smile.

"Thanks."

"So, you passed Mikey's test, and his ex-girlfriend caused the accident. Anything else?"

"School lunches are as putrid as I remember." He looked out the window. "Any news about Sally?"

"The sister?" He turned a corner and beeped at somebody who had pulled out in front of him. "I haven't heard anything."

"I'm worried about her. If the kidnappers can't get to me, do you suppose they would take her?"

"Probably," Mark looked grim. "Very probable."

They drove on in silence until they reached Mikey's house

Sam closed the car door and heaved a heavy sigh.

"That bad, eh?" Mark grinned at him impishly. Sam shot him an exasperated look and Mark quickly apologized, "I'm sorry, Sam, it must be really hard having a girl who won't leave you alone."

"Among other things." Sam added grimly and stared at the driveway looking for Dr. O'Malley's car. It was there. He couldn't make up his mind if that made things better or worse.

"Are you going in?" Mark asked, "or do you plan to wait here for an invitation?"

Sam walked with Mark up to the porch step. With another sigh, he opened the front door and looked around. Aunt Elizabeth was sitting in the living room, back straight in her usual rocking chair Marta curled at her feet. With an anxious look, she pointed to the kitchen. Sam nodded, and walked quickly to the kitchen, Mark following him.

Dr. O'Malley was sitting at the kitchen table, looking through the back window. He got up as Sam walked in. Sam stopped, looking at O'Malley. Something was wrong…

"Long day, eh?" Dr. O'Malley asked, almost companionably.

"Yes sir." Sam thought of their last conversation and wondered if Mikey's dad had forgiven him yet. Somehow he suspected not. Dr. O'Malley didn't strike him as the sort of man who could forgive easily.

"Can you wait outside, please?" Dr. O'Malley was speaking to Mark, "I want to talk to my 'son' in private." He put his arm around Sam and gently pushed him through the kitchen door. "We'll be only a minute." He quickly added before shutting the door in Mark's face.

"What's this about?" Sam asked setting his backpack on the kitchen table and taking off his jacket.

"We can't find Mindy." Dr. O'Malley said without preamble. "You said that you traveled through time to fix things." He looked down at Sam angrily. "Well, fix this and give me both my daughter and my son back!"

For the first time Sam noticed that Dr. O'Malley's hands were shaking. "I am very sorry to hear that your daughter is missing," he began gently, "and I will do everything that I can to help you find her, but this is not a normal Leap. Ziggy, our computer, doesn't have access to a lot of the information she normally has."

"Why not?" Dr. O'Malley bellowed. "Why can't you just look into your 'crystal ball' - or what-ever it is - and find my daughter?" He looked very close to a breakdown.

Elizabeth rushed into the kitchen, Mark hot on her heals, "For goodness sakes, Jack, it's not Mikey's fault that Sally has taken off – and don't give me grief that I'm saying that it's your fault. That's utter nonsense. Sally is old enough to be held responsible for her own decisions." The older woman fussed with her brother's shirt collar as she spoke, smoothing out the wrinkles and folding it down properly. "You look terrible dear; you didn't get any rest last night did you? You really shouldn't let disagreements between you and Mikey upset you so…"

"It wasn't Mikey." Dr. O'Malley's words were clipped, his voice still tight with anger.

"Then who were you arguing with last night? Was it Bernadette?" Elizabeth's hands finally came to a rest on her brother's shoulders, preventing him from turning away and evading the question.

"Not Mikey." Dr. O'Malley compromised and refused to say anything more.

"Well then," she looked her brother up and down before finally removing her hands and turned to look first at Sam, then back to Dr. O'Malley, "why are you so cross with him now?"

"Because he could help." Dr. O'Malley thrust an accusatory finger at Sam.

"Jack!" Elizabeth said. "You're not making any sense! If you're not arguing with Mikey, then why can you say he can help?"

"Because," Sam said quietly. "I'm not Mikey, and he knows that. I'm a time traveler from a top-secret project who happens to look like Mikey right now. Mark will verify that." Elizabeth looked confused. Mark nodded. He turned back to Dr. O'Malley. "I said I would, I just can't help you the way you want me to. I'm not a magician, nor a miracle worker. There is a limit to what I can do," Sam insisted as reasonably as he could.

"I think you could do more." Dr. O'Malley took a half step closer until Elizabeth pushed him back.

"I haven't heard from – Al – all day. I'm not psychic."

"And I haven't heard anything," Mark added quickly. "I would hear if anything had happened."

"I'm very close to home, aren't I?" Sam said quietly.

Mark nodded. "One hour in the Project's past."

Sam opened his mouth, then shut it. "I see."

Elizabeth looked at her brother, then pulled out a chair and pressured him to sit. Quietly, she took another chair.

Dr. O'Malley deflated in the chair, folding his arms and collapsing into them. "The police said not enough time had passed for them to get involved. They believe that she just spent the night with a different friend and decided to play hooky from school"

"Well maybe they're right." Elizabeth soothed, reaching out to put her arm around his shoulders.

"No, Elizabeth, she didn't choose to spend the night with a different friend and she didn't choose to play hooky from school. She was kidnapped, because the people who tried to kidnap 'Mikey' couldn't reach him and decided on the next best thing." Dr. O'Malley brought his head back up, shrugging off his sister's arm and glared at Sam.

Clearly Mikey's dad felt this whole thing was his fault, Sam sighed and pulled out a chair to sit, turning his back to Mikey's aunt while doing so.

"What's this?" she asked pulling an envelope out of Sam's back pocket and opening it.

"It's addressed to Sam…" Sam turned to look at her, and she paled. "Your name is Sam." Now her hands shook as she gestured with the letter.

"I had forgotten about it. I found it in my locker this morning."

"What does it say?" Dr. O'Malley stood up, suddenly too tense to sit still.

"They have Sally and are threatening to hurt her if this Sam doesn't turn himself over to them. They say they have Mikey too... but this is ridiculous!"

"No," Sam said, looking at Mark. "It's not. Somebody got into the Project and took Mikey." He turned to Elizabeth and Dr. O'Malley. "While I'm here, Mikey is – was - back at my origin spot, in New Mexico." Dr. O'Malley looked alarmed. "Generally, our Visitors are very well taken care of. This has to be an inside job." He looked at his bodyguard. "Mark, can you call Senator McBride and notify her as to what happened?"

Mark nodded. "I recommend we inform the FBI as well. This kidnapping took place over state lines, and they are already involved in the original investigation."

Dr. O'Malley took the letter from Elizabeth's trembling fingers. While he was obviously still shaken, he seemed to steady as he read the letter. "They want you to go to the Soldiers Home Cemetery off of Rock Creek Church Road, Northwest. Stop in front of the Old Soldiers home building." He looked up. "They want you there after 9:00. It'll be dark then. Come alone."

Sam closed his eyes. "They want to do a prisoner exchange." He pursed his lips. "But that makes no sense. They would have enough sense to know that we would call the authorities. Unless…" He turned to Mark. "Belay that call to Senator McBride. They must have somebody inside at the FBI." He smiled grimly. "Do you have any really good friends in the military?"

Mark smiled. "I do. I also know a couple of retired FBI agents that may be able to help."

Sam smiled back. "Get them. If they're not active, they won't be in the command chain, correct?"

"I would think not," Mark agreed.

"We also need Al here, I think. Tell him we can put Gooshie in the Imaging Chamber, if we need to." Sam blinked and staggered.

"What's wrong?" Mark looked alarmed. Elizabeth started to get up to steady him.

Sam closed his eyes. "I… remember."

Dr. O'Malley raised his eyebrows.

"Part of what went wrong with… the Project… was that I Leapt and I couldn't remember things. Important facts, I had to rely on Al to feed me information and I couldn't remember even basic facts about my own life." He opened his eyes. "Tell Al to tell Donna that I love her. Tell her that I was Charlie. And tell her to think about our star. She'll know what I'm talking about."

"Who is Donna?" Elizabeth asked gently.

Tears started down Sam's face. "She's my wife."

October 27, 1:15 New Mexico Time

"Donna! Verbena!" Al caught up with them just as they were entering Donna's on-base quarters. He stopped in front of them, panting. His face pale.

"Al, what's wrong?" Donna felt faint. "Is Sam…?"

"Sam's fine. Mark just called." He stared at Donna and started smiling. "He remembers."

Donna put her hand to her mouth. "Oh, my God," she said silently.

Al relayed the message that Mark had given him. "And," he concluded. "Mark told him that his time was only an hour behind us. But there's a problem." He told them the situation. "Sam wants me there. He wants Gooshie ready to go into the Imaging Chamber, and he wants you at the controls."

With an effort, Donna dried the tears on her face. "I'll be there." She smiled. He was Charlie. I knew there was something familiar about the boy." Her smile faded. "Does that mean that I'm going to stay in this… timeline?"

Al, about ready to race down the hall, stopped and looked at her. Gently, he took her in his arms. "I don't know, but it looks to me that this change is going to stay."

She smiled down at him. "And if I don't." Her smile faded again, and her tired expression turned resolute. "And, if I don't, my last thought is that I will have helped him come one step closer home." She looked seriously at Al and Verbena. "Don't tell him about me. Swear."

"We won't," Al said, glancing at Verbena. She nodded.

"Go," Donna said. "Be with Sam."

Al smiled, pulling out his cell phone. "Tom? Warm up the jet." He started running. "Yes, again!"

"It will take a couple of hours for Al to reach Sam," Verbena said. She gestured to the bedroom. "You should…"

"I should," Donna said, turning to go back the way they came, "but I'm not. I couldn't sleep now." She started walking down the hall, but she felt like singing.

7:00 P.M. Washington Time.

For the thousandth time, Dr. O'Malley got up and wandered around the room. The doorbell rang, and he started to run to the door. Mark got in his way. "Let me," he said, pulling his gun out of its holster and waving the doctor back.

He looked through the window. "It's a woman." He looked at a picture on the wall of the family. "It's your wife." He opened the door. "Your husband is in the living room."

"And who are you?" Mrs. O'Malley said. "And what's going on here?" She turned to the living room. "Sally still hasn't come home. I was hoping…"

Dr. O'Malley bit his lip and walked to his ex-wife, arms out as if to embrace her. "She's not here."

"Then where…" She looked at him closely. "You know something."

He looked hopelessly at Mark, at Sam, and at Elizabeth. Sam looked at Elizabeth, realizing that he didn't know her last name. "Um… could you tell her?"

"Everything?" she asked.

Sam sighed. "Yes."

Before they could move to the kitchen, the doorbell rang again. Mark held his gun up again and peered out the door. Smiling grimly, he opened it.

"Al," Sam breathed. He looked haggard, but his dress whites were still crisp. "Al," he said louder.

Mrs. O'Malley looked puzzled. "Mikey? Jack mentioned that an Al had come to see Mikey."

Dr. O'Malley looked non-plussed as Sam looked at him. "I'm sorry. That was before."

Elizabeth tried to lead her into the kitchen.

"Before…?" Mrs. O'Malley was insistent.

Dr. O'Malley closed his eyes. "Bernadette, that's not Mikey. He just looks like Mikey right now. Both Sally and Mikey have been kidnapped."

Mrs. O'Malley sat down in the nearest chair. "Wh.." She swallowed and tried to speak. "Why? Jack, who are these men?"

With an apologetic look at Sam, Al stepped in. "Mrs. O'Malley, I'm Admiral Albert Calavicci. I'm connected with a top-secret project in New Mexico called Project Quantum Leap. The man you think is Mikey is actually our Project leader, Dr. Samuel Beckett. We believe that – opposing forces – have kidnapped Mikey and Sally to force us to turn Dr. Beckett over to them."

She looked at Dr. O'Malley. "Jack…?" she said, in a small voice.

He nodded.

"Did you know this morning?"

"I knew about Sam, yes. I didn't know about the kidnappings until a couple of hours ago. I just thought Sally was staying with a friend." He looked down. "I didn't want to alarm you, and…" he looked at Mark and Sam…. "I wasn't sure I could tell you anything."

"Did you ask?"

"He couldn't have said anything even if he did ask," Mark said.

"But – I'm their mother!"

"Yes," Al said. "I'm sorry."

"What we are doing now," Sam changed the subject, "is waiting. A note was slipped to me to meet the kidnappers at 9:00 tonight. Because we believe that the kidnappers have ties to the FBI, we cannot contact the authorities directly, but we do have some investigators and we…" he looked at Al. "We have an inside source. Has Ziggy said anything?"

Al pulled out his handlink. "She…" he pounded the handlink. "She just hacked into the FBI computers and the security system. So no. The odds are remaining steady for your… tasks."

"I see," Sam said, realizing that this was one time Al couldn't say anything directly.

The phone rang.

Mark motioned Elizabeth to answer the phone.

"Hello?" she said shakily. "Mindy? What are you… this really isn't…" Her face paled. "You're what?" She looked at Sam. "I'll get Mikey on the phone." She handed off the phone to Mikey trembling.

"Mindy?" Sam said. "What…"

"I can't do this anymore! I just wanted… to say goodbye."

"Mindy…."

"Don't try to stop me…"

"Mindy," Sam said. "Where are you?"

"I'm not going to tell you. You'll stop me," her voice was slurring. "It was a cat! I didn't want Jake to hit the cat. Now everybody hates me!"

"Mindy," Sam said. "I don't hate you."

"You'll be better without me." The phone was slammed down.

"Gooshie! Recenter…" He stopped, looking frustrated.

"Al." In spite of everything Sam nearly smiled. "Remember, you're here."

"Right," Al said. He pulled out his cell phone. "Gooshie! Get in the Imaging Chamber now! I need Ziggy to center you on Mindy." He turned to the rest of the room. "We'll find her."

"I'll call Jim," Dr. O'Malley said. "Maybe he can go…"

Sam walked across the living room to face him. "Dr. O'Malley. I believe that I am here to save your son and daughter – but I can't ignore Mindy. Part of Mindy's problem involves Mikey – so 'Mikey' needs to be there to help her." He sighed. "I've been on many, many Leaps –" He noticed the confused looks. "That's what we call these time journeys – many Leaps that seem to reference a random, unimportant event. I've rescued cats out of trees, stopped shopping carts from running into cars, even scared a butterfly out of a tree before a bird could get it. I don't know why God or Time or something else sends me to do these things." His voice was firm. "But I can't pick one person over another. Mindy needs me. I think we can time this that we can save both of them."

Mrs. O'Malley looked stricken at her husband. "Jack?"

"Bernadette," he said, getting up. "Bernadette. He's right." He folded her into his arms.

She buried her face into his shoulder. "I know. I don't understand, but I know."

Al looked up from his phone. "Gooshie has a lock on Mindy. It's around Catholic University Stadium."

Dr. O'Malley looked up. "That's not far. And it's close to Soldier's home."

Mark grabbed his keys. "I'll drive."

"I'll follow." Dr. O'Malley insisted.

Sam went up to them. "I would recommend that you don't. You might rattle Mindy. I'm going to have to find her alone."

"I'm still driving," Mark said.

"Al. Stay here with the O'Malley's." He looked around. Off to the side, he saw Gooshie flicker into focus." Gooshie's here."

"Sam…"

"I'll be all right. Get Fr. Jim over there."

Elizabeth's eyes were full. "We'll make sure of that." The parents nodded, still hugging each other."

Mark and Sam rushed out of the house.

7:15 pm

"Dr. Elesee," Ziggy said. "I am having trouble keeping Dr. Gushman centered on Mindy."

Donna looked down at the controls. "Damn. We never could get Gooshie added into the matrix correctly. She looked at the read-out along to the side of the control panel. "But… we could if we substituted his DNA for Al's…." She looked up at Verbena, stricken. "If we do that, we may not get Al's DNA in the matrix properly aligned again."

"Ziggy," Verbena said. "The odds of that?"

"Fifty percent, Dr. Beeks. But there are ninety percent odds that Mindy will die if this is not done."

"Damn percentages," Donna muttered. "For years, we've been listening to percentages." She looked up. "Do it, Ziggy."

"Done, Dr. Elesee." There was a hesitation. "Optimal projection achieved."

"Better like hell be," Donna said, her voice shaking.

"Donna," Verbena said. "He will be fine."

"I know." She closed her eyes. "We need him there. God knows, we need him there."

7:20 pm

Sam looked to the back seat. "Gooshie!"

Gooshie looked up from the handlink and looked around, blinking. "Oh, that's much clearer. What happened, Ziggy?" He raised his eyebrows. "Oh?" He looked speculative. "Oh." It was more of an exhale than a word.

"They replaced Al's DNA in the matrix with yours, didn't they?" Sam guessed.

"Yes." Gooshie looked unhappy.

"I see." Sam looked forward. He didn't really want to think what would happen if he kept on Leaping – yet he had seen Al grow more and more tired. And the clearer he remembered the more he realized that Al had been looking very tired for a long, long time.

It wasn't fair for Al.

Did he feel guilty? Yes. And no. Al had wanted the Project to succeed as much as he did, but, in retrospect, he should never have gone into the Accelerator. But if he hadn't started Leaping, where would the world be now? Would it be worse? Would God have found another way? He was certain that what he called God had helped him time after time again.

He may never go home; he accepted that, but… "The Bartender never said I couldn't go home," he realized. "I said that. He never said that."

"What was that?" Mark said, puzzled.

"Never mind," Sam said. "Gooshie?"

Gooshie was intent on the handlink. "She's there," then louder, "there!" He jerked his thumb to the right.

Sam looked to the side. "In the woods?" Mark stopped with a jerk.

"I'll lead you!" He popped out of the car, appearing to the side. "Here!" he called.

Sam jumped out of the car, rushing up a hill. He found Mindy, behind a bush, sobbing on her knees. Pill bottles were in front of her, as was a gun.

"No!" Mindy said, looking up at him. "No. You're not supposed to be here!"

Sam started to lean down beside her, but backed off as she raised the gun. "Mindy. What are you doing?"

Mindy looked up at him and swayed. He realized that she was drunk, backed off even more then knelt on the ground. "Why, Mindy?"

Mindy stared blearily at him. "I didn't get drunk. I just had a sip! Why do you always think I'm drunk?"

"Mindy. I didn't say you were drunk now."

"Well, I'm not." She waved the gun around, and Sam tensed involuntarily. Then he deliberately relaxed and thought back to the night he found Al hammering the vending machine in a drunken rage.

"Mindy. This afternoon, we were speaking about the night of the accident. The night Jake died. Why did you get drunk that night?"

"It wasn't night, it was after midnight."

"Don't evade the question Mindy," Sam said gently.

"It wasn't my fault." Mindy sulked, so deep in her own pain she was oblivious to Sam.

"Mindy, you're still evading the question," Sam said softly, "and I'm not going to let you get away with it. Why did you get drunk the night Jake died?"

"I just didn't want to hit the cat."

"Mindy answer the question. Why did you get drunk the night Jake died?" Sam tried to keep his voice calm. Lord knew that wasn't easy.

"I don't know why the cat was out, it was pouring rain. The wind was bad. And this cat just ran across the road from out of nowhere." She whined to herself.

Sam looked Mindy in the eyes. "Never mind the cat, it's safe. Think only of before the accident. Why did you get drunk that night?"

Mindy shook her head and tried to look away. "Which night?"

Sam held her with his eyes. "Mindy. The night we were talking about."

"I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry." Mindy tried to look away again. "I just wanted to have fun." Sam shifted forward, grabbed the gun gently tossing it to the side, then held her face with his hands.

"Mindy. You are allowing yourself to drown in guilt. You need to let go and forgive yourself."

"I can't. I can't! Jake died! But if I hadn't grabbed the wheel…"

"Mindy," Sam spoke up, "Mindy, look at me." He moved closer to her and waited for her to look him in the eye again. "I forgive you." Of course, Sam could only speak for himself, but Mindy needed to hear that she was forgivable. Short of Mikey being here, Sam could think of no better way of convincing her.

"You forgive me?" Mindy's face lit up with hope.

"Yes, I forgive you." Sam poured every bit of sincerity he had into his voice.

"You'll go out with me again?"

Sam sighed; this wasn't going to be easy. In a way it shouldn't have surprised him. To Mindy, being forgiven meant that she could continue as if nothing happened.

"Being forgiven is not license to avoid the consequences of your actions," Sam said. "We had an agreement. You broke your agreement."

Mindy's eyes grew wide, "I did?"

"Yes, you did." Sam agreed solemnly.

"How did I do that?"

Sam couldn't tell if she was seeking to evade responsibility for her actions or if she was sincerely confused. A wind came up, and leaves started falling onto them. He brushed a leaf from her head. "You remember. The agreement required something of you, it required something of me as well." he tried to explain.

"Like what? You don't like to drink."

"But I like you. But I like you sober." He quickly added.

"I don't get it. If you like me why won't you go out with me?"

"Because you choose to drink over going out with me; you decided that drinking was more important to you than being with me. That's not good for me. After all, I have epilepsy because of that car accident, and we never would have had that accident if you hadn't been drinking."

"You don't forgive me, how could you really and bring that up?"

"Because it's the reality I live with now. It's what I have to face every day when I take my pills. I forgive you, but I can't forget because of how much it has changed my life. My best friend is dead. He would still be alive and I would still be playing football with my friends if you had only stayed sober. I can't talk to Jake, I can't play football on the team, but I can forgive you. That doesn't change what I can't do. I have to live with that, Mindy. I just can't pretend that never happened."

"I don't believe you. If you really forgave me then you wouldn't say those things."

"Why do you believe that, Mindy?"

"Because it's true - forgiving means not holding grudges. If you really forgave me you wouldn't hold this grudge against me and wouldn't say those things."

"Mindy, I'm not boasting when I say that I was a good football player. Playing was important to me. Now I can't play anymore. How can you expect me not to think about that? Also, how can you expect me to not think about my best friend?"

"I-I guess I can't." Tears started rolling down her cheeks.

In the corner of his eye, he saw another couple of cars pull up. Not letting her go, he stared into her eyes. "Forgiving someone is just refusing to hold on to the pain of those hurts. It's choosing to let go, not deciding that the pain no longer hurts. It may always hurt, and those hurts will last a very long time – perhaps for the rest of our lives."

"Then how can you forgive, if it doesn't make the pain go away. Why bother forgiving if it doesn't do any good?"

"Oh, forgiving does a world of good," Sam pointed out. "It is the first step towards healing. It's really not about feeling better so much as it is about being better."

"How do you know if you are better if the pain never goes away?"

"Mindy." Sam looked away and thought of Al and his losses, of his Dad, of his brother who had died, and who he ultimately saved, at the price of losing a woman who didn't have to die. "Mindy, the pain will lessen. It will never go away, but you will be able to live with it. You will have to trust me."

She looked Sam in the eyes. "You're different. Ever since you came back from the hospital, you're different." She pointed her finger at him.

"I care about you, I want what's best for you; and that isn't me." Sam pulled her hand down, folding down her accusing finger. "You'll have to trust my judgment on that."

He saw a couple of people come up the hill. She jumped, jerking her hand from his grip. "Why?" Mindy raged at him, "Why should I trust you? You tricked me. You brought people here and now you're trying to dump the responsibility of Jake's death and your illness on me!" She began pummeling Sam, striking his shoulders and chest. "It was the cat, I told you! The cat, not me! I didn't do it." Tears were flowing freely now down Mindy's face.

Sam gestured Fr. Jim back – and, he noted with surprise, there was a couple who was following Father. He nodded them back as well. When she finally calmed down Sam held her gently as he asked her, "Was it you or the cat who drank that night? Was it you or the cat who spiked my drink? Was it you or the cat who couldn't stand to sit by me in the car? Was it you or the cat who jerked on the steering wheel?"

She looked him in the eye. "I… I…" She got up and turned to Fr. Jim. "Father, he… he…"

"Mikey," Father Jim said softly. "Mindy's father is here." He turned to Mindy. "Mindy, you need to go with your parents now. They're terribly worried about you."

Mindy snorted, obviously not believing him. Sam wondered where they had been before, then decided that it wasn't important right now.

"I have to talk to Mikey." Mindy stated angrily.

"Mikey will talk with you later, honey. You need to go with your parents now. They're going to take you to the hospital."

"Why," she looked up warily. "I'm not sick."

Sam glanced at Fr Jim. "But you're cold," Sam said. "The hospital will have blankets." He hugged Mindy. "We will talk later."

A hagridden man came up beside Mindy. "Come on, honey." He took her gently in his arms, then looked at Sam. "Thank you. With my wife's illness, I didn't realize…" Sam hadn't even realized that her mother was ill, standing next to her husband she didn't look ill, just irritated. Sam looked questioningly at Mindy's father. "We told her not to tell."

Sam thought about how alcoholism tended to run in families and just nodded. "I see."

Mindy passed out. Her mother helped her father lifted her to the car.

Sam looked at Fr. Jim. "I'm surprised to see him here."

"I knew," Fr. Jim said, "that she needed more help than I could give. I knew where her father was and told him what was happening."

"Thank you." They walked down the hill.

Another car drove up. To Sam's surprise, Beth got out and looked ruefully at the other car driving out. "Al called me. He thought you might need a nurse here. I see you don't." She looked at Fr. Jim, a question in her face. Sam shook his head. "How are you?" she asked instead.

"I… seem to be fine," Sam said. He looked down at his watch. "We need to go to… our other appointment," he said to Mark, who was standing anxiously beside the car.

Beth chewed her lip. "Al told me."

"I see."

"You'll need me there."

Fr. Jim looked between Mark and Beth and Sam. "I'm not sure what's going on, but I'm getting a very strong feeling you might need me, too."

"Father?" Sam said. "Can you take what might happen next on faith?"

Fr. Jim laughed. "Son, I've been doing that for years."

Sam looked sober. "I can't explain now, but I'm not Mikey."

Fr. Jim looked incredulous. He looked at the other two for confirmation. They nodded at him.

"Good makeup," Fr. Jim said weakly.

Sam nodded. "The problem is that Mikey and his sister have been kidnapped, and they want me for exchange."

"And you're valuable why…?"

"That's top secret, I'm afraid."

"I see."

"Will you follow us to the rendezvous point? I believe you may be useful."

Fr. Jim didn't hesitate, "Of course."

Sam got in the car with Mark. Beth and Fr. Jim got in the back seat. As they introduced themselves to each other, Mark eyed Sam. "I hope you know what you're doing."

Sam sighed. "Same here." He muttered looking at his watch again. The car jerked to a start.

A few minutes later, they pulled up to an intersection. Al was waiting, with Mikey's parents. "Mindy?" Sam asked Al.

Al smiled sadly. "I'm in the same time as you, remember? You'll have to ask Gooshie – and I doubt if he'll know anything either."

Sam blinked. "Come to think of it, I haven't seen Gooshie lately."

Al's eyebrows drew together. "Probably his neurons overloaded the machine," he shrugged, but looked speculative.

Sam looked closely at him. "Do you…"

"Bogie at the end of the street," Mark said quietly.

Sam looked. A black car was turning the corner. It stopped halfway down the street and five people got out. Cynthia Marley, two men in a black leather jackets and two others who were blindfolded. One was a young girl – it finally occurred to Sam that he had never actually met Sally – and the other was a tall man in a white outfit.

That was Mikey.

Sam blinked. He had never looked at himself from the outside before. Then he shook his head. Now was not the time for existential reflection. He motioned to Al to walk with him. "Everybody should stay here."

Mark started and moved behind the car. Sam could see him open his cell phone and then gave Sam and Al a hidden thumb up.

"What was that about?" Sam asked.

"You don't want to know," Al muttered sotto voce. He looked down the street, then they started walking.

"They don't look right," Al indicated the O'Malley children with a jerk of his chin.

"They're drugged," Sam said, "makes sense."

"Sick sense," Al said grimly.

"Dr. Beckett," the woman sang out.

Sam looked at her closely, the light finally dawning. "I know you," he said, then shut his mouth.

"Really?" the woman arched her brow smugly. "I don't recall meeting you. I must have made quite an impression." She laughed, but the laugh had no humor. "I seem to have a couple of people you want."

"So I see," Sam said. "What do you want? Money? You already have the plans and our DNA for the neural interface."

"Ah," she said. "But what we actually need, is you." Her eyes flashed a wicked smile.

Sam smiled back without much warmth. "You seem to have me – " he pointed "—over there."

"But what we don't have is your retrieval program."

"Oh," Al said quietly.

"And you think we do." Sam looked as if he had bitten something sour.

"Of course," she said. "Really, Dr. Beckett, do you think we're naïve? There are many people in Washington who believe you've had the retrieval program all along, but refused to admit it." She smiled knowingly. "I salute you. That's a great way to keep funding for a program. The Admiral would come to Washington every year, claiming that, yes, he's still Leaping, no, the retrieval program doesn't work, but he's doing so much good back in time, correcting 'what went wrong.'" She smiled sarcastically. "I loved it."

Sam closed his eyes and shook his head. "So you think I would leave my wife and constantly travel through time for money?"

She smiled knowingly.

"Zoe." Beside him, Sam could see Al shift slightly in shock, but he knew that was the only reaction Al would give.

Her smile faded, but in a minute, she recovered. "Who?"

"Zoe, the reason I've been doing this so long is that the retrieval program does not work."

"And, if that's true, I have no problem finding a place for these two – forever." She pulled out a gun.

Mikey stiffened up. Sam noticed this and decided that he wasn't nearly as drugged as he looked.

"I will go with you," Sam said. "Don't harm them."

"I also want guarantees that we won't be followed."

"I can guarantee that you won't be followed," Al said. "But I can't guarantee that we won't search for you."

"Then give us a day."

Al started to swear. "Agreed," Sam said swiftly, with a look at Al. Al continued to swear under his breath, quiet sailor's curses that reminded Sam just how bad his old friend's temper could get.

"Then walk," Zoe said.

The men holding the kids gave them a gentle push, and they started walking. Sam angled himself so he was facing Mikey. "Mikey. When I tell you, grab your sister and run," he said lowly, without moving his mouth. He passed by Mikey, pushed him –

#

"Odds going up to one hundred percent," Ziggy sang out.

Donna found herself trembling. Was this going to work? Where would she find herself?

"Ninety-nine. Ninety-eight," the computer's voice droned on.

No, God, no!

"One hundred percent."

Donna's hand plunged downward on the control panel without hesitation.

#

Sam brushed by Mikey, shoved him on the back –

and found himself facing the other direction, his eyes blindfolded. Tearing off the blindfold, he turned and said, "Run, Mikey, run!"

Mikey, looking startled, grabbed his sister's arm. As they ran, he tore off her blindfold. In the meantime, Sam whirled, and sprinted towards Zoe. She raised her gun, then hesitated, obviously at a loss of what to do – then leapt into the driver's seat of the car, backed off swiftly, and drove away, leaving her guards behind. They started running, but as they did so, a car flew around the corner behind Sam, passing him, and cutting off their escape. The car door opened, and Mark pointed his gun at the pair. "I wouldn't, if I were you," he drawled.

He glanced beyond them. "Dr. Beckett, I presume?"

Sam grinned broadly, then felt a tap on his shoulder. "Sam?"

"Al!"

"Damn," Al said, then more emphatically, "Damn." He looked like he was afraid to reach out.

Sam grabbed him and hugged him.

"I have to call the Project…"

"You have to wait an hour," Sam grinned. "Remember?"

Al grinned as a group of cars came up. "My buddies," Mark said, as they poured out, their guns at the ready.

"Are these the kidnappers?" one said, looking at the two men, but glancing curiously at Sam.

Mark pointed. "Yup. Those two. I'm an eyewitness, as is Dr. Beckett and Admiral Calavicci. The children are around the corner."

"We'll need to talk to you, and them also."

"Of course," Sam said. "We'll let them know."

They led one of the men around the corner.

The O'Malley family was oblivious to everybody but themselves. Sally was still somewhat out of it, but they were hugging. The two O'Malley parents looked at each other, and, as one, embraced each other and kissed. "Al?" asked Sam.

"No clue," Al said, sounding happy. "We can't see the future." He looked at Beth, who smiled at him.

She moved forward. "Al," she said softly. "It was good to see you."

"Beth." Suddenly, Al seemed ill at ease. "Beth, may I call on you the next time…"

"Al," she smiled at him, almost shyly. "Dirk was a good man, but you are and always have been my first love. Of course you may…"

Al's face outshone any of his civilian shirts.

"I think I'll wait a bit to talk to them," the FBI agent said wryly. "Do you have time to talk?"

Sam smiled.

What seemed like a short time later, Al's cell phone rang. He looked at the ID, answered it, then got a broad grin on his face. "Just a second," he said. He handed the phone to Sam. "It's for you."

Sam searched Al's face whose eyes were dancing impishly. "Hello?" Sam had to clear his throat and tried again. "Hello?"

"Sam?" said a trembling female voice.

Sam's eyes filled up with tears. "Donna?"

The End?


End file.
